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Tales From The Middle Of Nowhere





Taken from Noel's tour diary for oasisinet.com

Phew. Just back from that whistle stop tour of the far east. Japan, South Korea and Hong Kong. 5 days. 2 gigs. Lots of noodles and a million air miles. My phone didn't work out there and I wasn't keeping notes so you'll have to do with what I can remember, which doesn't bode well. Here goes.

At Heathrow, on the way out, I bumped into that Jenson Button. He's a racing car driver. A famous one. Pretty good too, by all accounts. And I seen that Stephen Fry. He's famous for knowing pretty much everything.

Got hassled by a man (I think it was a man!) in a kilt. Who wasn't famous or Scottish, just annoying. The flight was mobbed. Watched that film about that heavy metal band "Anvil". Fuckin' funny. Metal is though, innit?

Was met at the airport by that girl who invented the "Noel Or Die" sign. Only now she's made t-shirts. With me as a Simpsons character who looks more like Tom Hanks!! Do I look like Tom Hanks?

Tokyo was hot, damp and humid. Tried to stay awake by shopping my bollocks off. It was a minor success. Had some noodles - real ones - and went to bed. So far, so good. Had a great kip. Unbelievable. 10 hours! A personal best.

Man City was on the BBC World News for meeting that Nelson Mandela!!! MAN CITY!! No one gave a monkey's 'bout Man City 6 months ago, now we're on the news meeting world leaders! Now that is mental.

Still hot and humid, only now it's raining, and I mean raining. Monsoon gear. Biblical.

Missed the train to the gig. No panic. They literally run every 3 minutes. Got to that Fuji Rock just in time to see my old mate and soul brother #1, Paul Weller. Hadn't seen him play since May. He was well psychedelic. It pissed down all the way through his set. Good though.

Had to drive back to Tokyo after. 3 c**ting hours. Grim as fuck. Still raining. Hard, boiling hot rain.

Didn't get any kip that night. Not a single second. Flew to Seoul the next day. Feeling slightly mental. I thought I was losing my eyesight at one point. Totally fucked.

Can't remember much after that. Apart from 2 things. I seen an advert for a play called "Breakout". It was billed as an "Extreme dance comedy"!? EXTREME DANCE COMEDY? What on God's green earth is that gonna be like? And what's extreme about it? The dance or the comedy? Ludicrous dance comedy, more like. Not only that, I seen an Italian restaurant - in Seoul - called "Mad For Garlic"!! MAD FOR GARLIC?!!! And it was fuckin' packed.

The gig was immense. They really do know how to do that synchronised hand clapping shit in Korea. Spectacular. Jet - the band - were on before us. Hadn't seen them since that American tour in 2006, was it? They've been in the gym, let me tell you.

Flew home the next day (have I missed a day?). Had a 5 hour stop-over in Hong Kong. Caught up with the English newspapers. Mardy-bum John Terry's not coming to City. Halle-fuckin'-looya. Ate more crisps than even Irie Nancy could imagine. Bored shitless. Slept like a small elephant on the flight home. Arrived at a deserted Heathrow at 5.05 this morning.

Hope this made sense, if it didn't, fuck'all y'all. It's 3 o'clock next Thursday afternoon in my head.

In a bit.

GD.

Source: www.oasisinet.com

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