On to Sheffield where we support The Cure at the awful Limit club. They have just signed to Polydor, and their single Killing An Arab is doing rather well. We arrive to find that The Cure are there and although a three piece with minimal equipment, they take up the whole stage and refuse to move so much as a plectrum allow us on. The drummer in particular is a complete git, complaining that we shouldn't even get a dressing room. I get on all right with the bass player, and Dave works out a compromise with the Cure's drummer.
Their drummer will move his kit back enough so that Dave can fit his on the stage, and in return, Dave won't hammer the Cure's drummer to an unrecognizable paste. This seems to be an acceptable solution to both parties, and we go on only to find that The Cure's crew have sabotaged the lighting rig and we are forced to play under the minimal house lights. We'd done a lot worse in the past, so we got on with it and did really well with the crowd.
We load the van, and just before The Cure go on, Dave suddenly remembers he has to do something. He disappears back inside and reemerges a little while later looking somewhat flushed and suggests that we make our egress with all due speed. Apparently, he had reneged on his part of the agreement with The Cure's drummer, so the chances of further outings with them were minimal to say the least. We were just disappointed that we were not asked to join in. We do however, have a nice fight with each other on the way home, so the evening wasn't without it's little share of excitment.