Today, I received a telephone call. The caller informed me that this Saturday, a legend was descending upon the city of Aberdeen. A being so awesome, so incredible, so brilliant, so utterly fantastic and wonderful that no word exists in any language that could possibly begin to describe his sheer... well, like I just said there's no word. Shane MacGowan. The last great poet, the last great philosopher. Here am I, given once more the chance to stand in his presence. But this time, things are different. No longer will I be forced into a venue build for thousands of people - not this time. A small gig, for those loyal enough to traverse the lands of find him. So stage, no barriers. Getting so close to him you can smell his gin ridden breath as he rasps out a traditional Irish masterpiece. To observe the exact direction of his drunken sway, and yes, perhaps even being close enough to understand him when he speaks. A thing of true beauty. To bad I'm FUCKING WORKING!