Diary of a Spooky Man - Part 5
by Rhys Michelis
Day 16 - Liverpool
A less misty morning struck across Edinburgh as the party breakfasted in their lodgings (the author would like to thank Anne and Dave for their local knowledge and football-watching nightcap). The various members of the Spooky Billet Club Edinburgh Chapter then converged on Cameron Toll shopping centre, where a stirring rendition of Every Time We Say Goodbye was offered as recompense for room and board. The Spooky Men then climbed into the bellies of their steel steeds for the long migration South to Liverpool.
The drive was to be a long one, and as such special consideration was made as to the rest stop point. It was rightly decided that the payoff for hours cooped up in the vans should be a visit to the illustrious Tebay services - independent farm shop rest stop extraordinaire. Many of the wares were sampled, with highlights including pies with mash, extravagant sandwiches, punnets of fresh fruit and gelato in brandy snap cones. Tummies heavier and wallets lighter, the party were rolled back into B+B+P to complete the journey.
The vehicles arrived at St George’s Hall and much to their surprise found easy venue-side parking (last tour it was a test of patience and navigatory expertise to get the load in happening). Merch was lugged, lentil dishes were rice cooked, sound was checked and great vats of venue provided ice water were guzzled in attempts to remain cool. The team was joined for the night by Spooky Men James and Jamie, bolstering the line up to the greatest extent it would see for a few weeks at least.
Despite the indefatigable heat, and the accompanying bum sweat, the show was a delicious triumph with good vibes emanating from all corners of the deliciously round room. After the show, there was a mass migration to the Vines pub, where drinks were had and songs were sung to a few brave concertgoers and members of the igSpooknorant public who, thankfully, received raucous Spooky singing in good grace. Special mention should be made to plumbing the depths of the Georgian back catalogue, and also a sing through of The Thing which Spooky Man Joe had learnt in his rapid Spooky boot camp only to not find it in the set.
Pleasantly pickled, and glowing from pub-singery, the party slithered in drips and drabs to Travelodge for the night, and after each in turn pissing off the reception staff by tapping in through a side door, the Spooky Men laid themselves down to rest.
Day 17 - Manchester
An executive decision had been made that Liverpool was a sufficiently cool city to warrant a long morning for breakfast and exploration, and as such the Spooky Men fanned out and fended for their morning-selves, seeking to dust off the cobwebs of a late night and enjoy a spot of free time. Under the watchful eye of the liver birds and the three graces of Liverpool the Spooky Men caffeinated and enjoyed the sunshine before somehow ending up all at the same bakery peddling disgusting abominations of chocolate and choux pastry. No waistline was spared.
Morning business concluded, the party formed up for a morning meeting in an alleyway proximal to the vans, which was gently interrupted by Liverpudlian human and canine thoroughfare. Next stop, therefore, was Manchester, and so thence went the vans. The Stoller Hall carpark was located, a cart produced for rolling merch boxes in and the dressing rooms populated. One of them smelt a bit funny. We’ll get to that later. It should also be noted that around this time, Spooky fanaticism for the surreal scat singing efforts of Lorin Benedict (look him up on YouTube) reached a fever pitch, with syllables like ‘finst’ and ‘snu’ flying about the camp.
Sound was checked, plans for getting mailing list clipboards to the upstairs galleries were considered and then abandoned. It was then time for dinner. While one hungry party rounded the corner to raid the local Wagamama, your faithful author met with some family friends who were to attend the gig. Upon return to the venue, it was discovered that water was slowly seeping through the smellier dressing room’s carpet, and so it was that that dressing room was evacuated and a plumber called.
The gig had some of the best sound of the tour to date, with the built for purpose acoustic panelled room offering a delightful space for singing. Sweetest Kick was sung in the round, which is always a special experience. There was also one clever fan with an “I Lithgow” sign, whose uncanny prescience gently spooked the Spookmeister when he gently ribbed Lithgow, NSW early in his patter.
After the gig the crew was serenaded by a Swedish couple who, to everybody’s relief, had not been offended by the ‘culturally authentic’ rendition of Swedish ‘folk song’ Dancing Qveen. The party then scattered itself to the seven winds only to be blown, some by foot and some by wheel, to yet another Travelodge, where a small afterparty / whisky club was held, with some suspiciously Australia TV programming playing in the background.
Day 18 - Bury St Edmunds
As another tour day dawned, another Travelodge morning greeted each and every Spook like an old friend. The thirty-two footed black-robed beast sniffed hungrily at the trendy Ancoats atmosphere, pouncing on suitable breakfast spots with alacrity. The Mackie Mayer food hall proved particularly popular, in spite of the fact that the breakfast sandwich purveyor ran out of eggs before most of the party had a chance to order any.
The pesky ‘St Edmunds’ affixed to to the end of the name of the location of the night’s gig added about four hours onto the travel time from Manchester, so there was limited time for faffing about before the convoy needed to hit the road. The carpark that Beast was parked in did its absolute darndest, however, to stall proceedings, with the van being almost completely parked in. But for the iron nerve and van manoeuvring acumen of Spooky Men Philip and Matty, Beast may still be stuck in that carpark to this day.
Your dear author wishes he could say that the drive was uneventful, but he in good conscience cannot, due to the fact that a Spooky Man (who shall remain nameless) decided to make ‘beggs’ (banana eggs) in his rice cooker in the back seats of the van. This too would have been perfectly acceptable but for the fact that the requisite bananas were pureed not using a fork or other implement but rather by using “nature’s nutribulet” i.e. his teeth, spitting the mushed up banana back into the rice cooker. Though photographic evidence exists, it unfortunately cannot be published due to UK obscenity laws.
Beggs not withstanding, B+B+P eventually rolled up to the back door of the Apex and loaded in. Attempts were made to adhere to Spooky Merch Queen Coral’s newly coined ‘Manchester System’ under which it is the responsibility of the person who takes a box out of the van to ensure that it makes its way all the way to the merch area (this came into affect because of an almost orphaned merch banner). There were some hiccoughs. Oh well.
Sound was checked, before those who had missed the previous evening’s Wagamama party made a beeline for the chain’s venue adjacent location. It was then back to the venue, where the crowd, true to historical form for Bury St Edmunds, were absolutely delightful. Despite means motive and opportunity, there were no clipboard assassination attempts, unlike the previous theatre in the round at Gateshead. Thank you Bury St Edmunds for your incredible warmth. After the gig, it was a moderately short drive away to the Barton Mills Travelodge, where a quick whisky club was held to conspire about the best way to prank the Spookmeister in the final gig the following day, as is tradition.
Day 19 - Sandwich
Despite all protestations, it was now undeniably true that the final day of the first half of the tour had arrived. It arrived in humble fashion, heralded by the meagre breakfast offerings of the adjacent petrol station Pret A Manger and Greggs. Sack was hackied in the Travelodge parking lot before a plan was struck to procure picnicable snacks en route to a park rendezvous in Canterbury, most of the way to Sandwich on the Kentish coast. B+B+P set off with a full load for the last time in a little while.
Macknade Food Hall in Faversham was chosen, after some deliberation, as the pit stop for the acquisition of all cheese, fruit and miscellaneous edible goodies. It was then not far to Toddler’s Cove on the Great Stour where a great feast was held in dappled Cantuarian riverside shade. The spread was lavish, and conversation gave way to smacking of lips, scraping of borksporfs and passing around of crinkly-packaged goodies. Then came the most sentimental part of any Spooky tour - the Saying Of Nice Things - during which it is taken in turns to acknowledge the positive contributions each party member has made to the tour. Though too special and personal to detail in this diary, it should be noted that tears were shed. Then, with visages made sufficiently puffy-eyed through feeling-having, a group picture was taken before it was realised the feast had taken all too long and that the party needed to bust a love to get to the gig on time. The show
must go on!
The vehicles arrived into gorgeous little sandwich and all of the crates of merch were decanted for a mid tour stocktake. Short work was made of this by an all hands effort. Sound was checked, and some brave members of the party ducked to the pub next door for a swift half pint before the show started. The show itself was wonderful, with the organically arranged bunches of chairs in the floral-decorated barn-like church being fully manned by a sell-out send-off crowd (how’s that for hyphenation!). The Spookmeister was appropriately pranked by the mainline grunting back to him each time he grunted in Dancing Qveen, a jape that was adjudged in the top 35% of all time Spookmeister pranks by the man himself.
After the gig, it was into the vans and off to the Ramsgate Seafront Travelodge where the first half of the tour would be sent off in style. Two circular tables and one oblong rectangular one were arranged in such a manner as to be optimally puerile while accommodating all comers. Whisky was drunk, pizza was had and the place name game (guessing the veracity of place names from curated real and fake lists) was played. Fesitivities were concluded with much hugging and goodbye-ing.
And this is where I, your faithful author, must leave you, as the dream life inevitably gives way to real life obligations and other intrepid high mids take my place in the line. It’s been an honour chronicling our adventure for you, thank you for your kind comments, and I assure you that another Spooky Man will assume the mantle and diarise the second of three halves of the 2026 Spooky Men’s Chorale UK tour.
Much love,
Spooky Man Rhys
