Hello.

Saturday evening could have gone better.

I would love to tell you all about Them Is Me at Bar Academy, but sadly this will not be possible. My Brother and myself were ejected from Bar Academy about 30 seconds after the band came onstage.

The reason?

I had drunk 3 bottles of Magners Irish Cider in The Square Peg before the gig. I then drank 3 bottles 0f Grolsch Premium Lager while enduring the two unlistenable thrash metal support bands. By the time Them Is Me came onstage, I was paralytic. My Brother had made me give up my spot on the barrier and made me sit down towards the back of the room. I was woozy, then dizzy, and then I vomited all down my T-shirt and my jeans. My Brother dragged me off to the toilet, where I finished being sick. Then, a very nice man from security (and I mean that - he seemed very concerned) said to my Brother that it might be a good idea if we left. We did.

Across the street, I was sick on myself, again. I drifted in and out of consciousness. People across the street, queueing to get into Ramshackle, looked and pointed. I was the guy you see out of his tree, with his face smudged out, on those regular stories on the news about teenagers binge drinking. After an indeterminate amount of time, my Brother coaxed me to my feet and we started move. He said that no taxi or bus would take me home, looking the way I did, so we were going back to his place.

I remember going up Bull Street, crossing Corporation Street, and heading up to Temple Row. I remember my Brother propping me up against the wall and having an altercation with somebody who called us "A pair of queers". I don't know what happened as I was studying the wall, but my Brother looked fine when he came back.

I don't remember going past Birmingham Cathedral onto Colmore Row. Or going through Victoria Square, the Central Library, Centenary Square and then the International Convention Centre. I remember being on the canal, because I remember being sick again with the Malt House behind me. I remember arriving at my Brother's house. He dumped me on the settee and made me drink a glass of water. He then gave me a bowl, in case I was sick again. I wasn't. My Brother rang Jennifer to tell her that I would be staying at his place overnight. He woke her up. She was in bed, long returned from the wedding.

Sunday.

I awoke at 7am. Amazingly enough, I had a tiny little headache. Really nothing. Hardly any hangover at all. Perhaps not so amazing. Quite a bit of the alcohol, and the prawn salad I had eaten before leaving home, was on my T-shirt and my jeans. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and I left. I didn't wake my Brother.

I was home by 9am. A shower, a change of clothes and then Jennifer made me a bacon sandwich. I drifted in and out of sleep all day, in front of the TV, until it was time for us to leave to catch "The X-Files - I Want To Believe".

My chest hurts me today. I think I have strained something. My throat is also very sore. My skin looks blotchy. I look fucking 60. Jennifer says that I went out on Saturday night determined to get wrecked for whatever-the-fuck reason was in my head. Mid life crisis? Competing with my Brother? Who the fuck knows. She might be right.

I am not pleased with myself. I am a dickhead. I am a fucking idiot. I am a prat and a damn fool. I am kind of ashamed. Pillock.

I am a nearly 45 year old man. I should not behave like a 25 year old. Nowhere near good enough. The only saving grace about this, I suppose, is that I do not do this kind of thing every week. It will not happen again. I vow it.

This morning I put the money that my Brother spent on his ticket for the gig back into his bank account. I then sent him the following email.

"----- Original Message -----
From: 'Jerry Cornelius'
To: 'Frank Cornelius'
Sent: Monday, August 04, 2008 7:22 AM
Subject: Saturday
Frank,

Sorry about spoiling Saturday. I was a dickhead and I know it. I have never been a great drinker. I am old enough to know when I should stop and that mixing drinks is never good. Good night up until the vomiting, though.

I have put the cost of the ticket back into your bank account, so at least you will not be out of pocket in that way.

Thanks for looking after me. See you later.

Jerry."

I got a reply this evening.

"From: 'Frank Cornelius'
Sent: 04 August 2008 20:05
To: Jerry Cornelius
Re: Saturday

Dont be a pratt you dont have to give me the money back, best laugh i've had in ages !!! Shortest time i've ever had in a gig too, stone cold sober too..... Anyway, roll on next time, just dont mix the drinks stick to bottles of beer or one type of drink fun though. !!"

My Brother is a true star.