My producer just rang and dropped a nice little bomb. Now there's a hole blown wide in my schedule: a hole two whole hours tomorrow night? Freed. It seems the Pussy-eating Pussies ate some bad you-know-what in Moscow and are too bent over the toilet to make their flight to London. I was set to catch their gig and exchange words in the after, but
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Bring whomever you deem acceptable for company.
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