Glasvegas, a Glaswegian post-punk outfit are playing Rock City in Nottingham in May. They sing about fighting and shagging and being angry about stuff. They also swear a lot.
The lovely Future Mrs Adventures is a big fan and decided that it would further my musical education to see them live. We decided to book tickets.
£7.00 a pop, so we decide to take along the family.
To a Glasvegas gig.
The youngest (who went to see Justin Bieber on Friday) was warned that crowd surfing was off limits.
At this point I desperately wanted to email the frontman of this hard drinking, foul mouthed, system-smashing group to tell him his gig was the subject of a full on family outing. He would have cried into his cocaine*, I'm sure.
Luckily for the mighty Glasvegas, it turned out that due to an advertising error the tickets were in fact £15.00, which was a bit pricey.
After all, we'd spent rather a lot over the weekend on an iPad and some rather lovely soft furnishings.
Sorry Sid, it looks like it was all for nothing.
*- This is purely for comic effect. I'm sure he's never touched the stuff.