Monday 11 December 2000 Thursday's gig at Chili 'n Lime (Somerset Road, heading into Sea Point from Town) is off. The Jo Rowlands Band with whom we were to play, has already cancelled. It transpires that the venue wants to charge us R200 for playing! They claim they have to cover their "expenses". In addition they want a cut of the door! Considering that Zen Arcade has already had to supply both posters and PA at our own expense, we are dumbfounded. Do they honestly expect us to cover their basic running costs - on a Thursday night at the onset of tourist season to boot? ACHTUNG, BABIES!!!! A special  word of caution to any unwary musicians reading this - the Chili 'n Lime owners are typical specimens of the lowest form of steaming filth one finds sticking to the shoes of the local music biz. Scum sucking parasites and clip-artists who are in it to make a quick buck off the backs of people trying to earn an honest living in a tough industry. They deserve every misfortune that befalls them and more. On a positive note, Andrew has made another plan - we will play Thursday night at The Jam with Sons of Trout, in fact a far better gig in every respect. After lunch, Andy and Iain go sightseeing, and I spend the afternoon with Jo Rowlands, one of my oldest and dearest friends, a beautiful, magical woman with a singing voice that can melt bone marrow at 100 paces. In between designing a poster for the Big Tree - none of the posters we sent ahead have arrived - we find time to catch up, enjoying beers on the sunny front stoep, less than 100m from the fynbos windbreak that shields the quiet cul-de-sac from the winds that rush up the shingle beach off the icy Kommetjie water. I spend the evening in Obs with ex-Joburg friends Janet & Michael. We drink beer, shooters, whiskey. I pass out.

THE

ROADKILL

DIARIES

Tuesday 12-12-00 In hangover denial, I get the van's silencer welded and order new shocks. We take a drive into town, to The Jam in de Villiers Street (off Roeland), on the site of the old District 6. We drop off a copy of our latest 7-song demo with the Springbok Nude Girls office, then spend the afternoon on Fishoek beach with Bronwynn, Asia and her sister Roxanne. To Andy's chagrin, a policeman tells him to stop drinking beer on the beach. Andy and I mission to The Big Tree, Strand, to drop off the posters, then back to Jo's house in Kommetjie in time for sunset. A planned beach picnic is driven back home and indoors by the wind, developing into a full-blown party. Luckily, we are just 4km down the road from JP's house.

Wednesday 13 December 2000 Boogie's newly fitted Safari-strength shocks take the edge off the drive to Strand, along the bumpy road that follows the coast out of Muizenberg past Sunrise Beach and the Cemetery (not a dead spot, but a desolate surf spot). The wind pummels the car through gaps in the sand dunes that reveal the sea, so close that salty froth is blown across the road. We offload all the gear at the Big Tree, in Fabriek Road. The venue boasts two large rooms each with tables and high chairs and a long bar running down the length of the common wall that separates them. There is a sizeable glass pane in the wall so you can keep an eye on the other room. The first room has pool tables; the second has a large stage and a raised gallery on the three walls facing the stage.  We pile into James's car and take the coastal road through Gordons Bay, the expanse of False Bay dancing deep blue and gold in the sun on our right. We take the Pringle Bay turnoff and drive until we hit the dirt road. Two clicks down the pitted road, the Hangklip Hotel nestles at the very foot of the Hangklip - a massive, solitary rocky outcrop some 464m high. Inside the cool hotel, we meet the owner Madeleine, who is relaxed and friendly. An unusual setup - a long, wide, room with a varnished slastoe floor. A right-angled bar at one end (we quickly order some cold Black Labels) and a tiny stage at the other end, which is open on two sides. The room is dominated by a free standing fireplace, with a built in bench,  several wooden tables and chairs. Back to The Big Tree for a sound check. Finally satisfied with the sound, we shoot off to Somerset West for KFC. Back at the venue, the place is largely empty. About 20 regulars shoot pool and drink to the sounds of 80's rock. We wait. No one seems interested in moving next door to where the band is set up. Finally we start playing at about 10.30pm, to a total audience of 8. After a short first set, we tell the barmaid to waive the door charge. She dips the Guns n Roses on the hifi briefly enough to shout that the band is free and turns the music back up. Response is nil. The regulars have no curiosity whatsoever. The second set we play to just the four guys at the front table. Although they seem to enjoy it, we find it hard to muster any enthusiasm. We wind up with an angry version of Trash, thank the audience, pack down in virtual silence and drive home smarting with resentment and frustration. A waste of time, petrol and effort. Unanimously, we vote this Zen Arcade's Worst Gig Ever.