SATANISTS, HARDEN THE F*** UP!

INTERNATIONAL TATTOO CONVENTION 2007! the day had finally arrived. Derek finished up all the last bits and pieces on those of us whom he was entering and off we flew to Durban. i'd dieted myself super duper hard to show some respect - for derek and also for myself of course, got Simon to do my hair and hopped into my green bikini. i was prepared and the show was on!

the atmosphere in the air at the Ocean Convention Centre was almost thick enough to see with the human eye as tattoo artists from around the world inked up bodies in blood, sweat and tears - possibly in that order.

with the noise of hundreds of tattoo guns buzzing i began to feel like someone who'd got their head stuck in an angry bee hive so i sat down on the floor with my book to remove myself and relax. i'd had a zillion photographs taken and there was nothing more i could do but sit on the edge of my nerves and wait for the end of the day when the final judging would take place. i'd noticed a stage with musical instruments but hadn't paid much attention to it what with everything else that was going on around me. then suddenly i felt a stabbing pain in my head. had a thombosis burst in my temporal lobe? i shot a panicked glance at derek. and took a sharp breath when i realised a guitar had startlingly howled at eardrum rupturing volume from out of nowhere! could they actually be doing this to us now? at this moment of all moments in the space-time continuum?!

the band started playing. they sounded like an ambulance would if it were driving around in my bathroom. honestly i was concerned for my cerebral health so i got up and ran to management to protest. nothing could be done. i really tried. but they assured me they only had a half hour set so, feeling as if my vocal chords were about to snap like elastic bands i returned to my seat on the floor before i sustained any permanent damage. now, into their final stretch the lead singer was really getting into it. but i wasn't prepared when he did his best imitation of Darth Vader and breathed "ALL HAIL SATAN! MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE! WE BOW DOWN BEFORE YOU AND WORSHIP YOU OH DARK MASTER OF THE WORLD!" my head nearly snapped clean off my shoulders as i whipped a look at derek! i literally had to find the bottom half of my jaw and attempt to reassemble my face before i could lift myself off the floor to see who the hell these guys were and what the looked like.

you'll be as disappointed as me when i tell you that the voice in question belonged to a 20 year old fat, pale, pasty kid with a nerdy side parting and an ensemble amateurishly constructed by obviously himself. i couldn't quite believe my eyes. look, i couldn't have exactly expected Marylin Manson in full regalia to be standing there, but this was just a sad cry for attention from a poor, podgy little boy-next-door in a vein attempt to gain street-cred the only way he knew how, "hmmm, SATANISM! that'll shock 'em! boy they won't forget me after THIS!"

as i plonked myself back onto the floor and reattatched my jaw. again. i broke into a seizure of laughter. he had made up one of the funniest images i think i'v ever seen! i couldn't look at him! he was about to make me hyper-ventilate and pass out.

about to pee in my pants i made my way to the toilet. en route back through the crowd, i saw him! there he was! i couldn't hold myself back and heard myself shouting, "excuse me! EXCUSE ME!"

i caught his attention. their i stood. a dream vision for him, a tattooed muscle girl in a bikini, now THIS was the kinda fan base he'd been looking for!

"come here, come over here'" i beckoned him with my hand shaking my head. he came over. "now listen here," i said like i cared, "FYI, if you want to be taken seriously as a hard-core satanist," i looked him up and down, "go to gym," i said, "go on diet, do something with you hair, and, ah, HARDEN THE F*** UP!"

i spun around and marched off leaving HIM with an unhinged jaw. and a dislocated ego.

i laughed at MYSELF for an hour or so after that, only to have the breath knocked out of me when band number two mounted the stage. "no!" i thought, "this cannot be happening," so to get a head start i side stepped the management route and decided to go directly to the source. i ran towards them and just about stage dived ONTO the stage, and before the guitarist could play a single riff i yelled, "excuse me! EXCUSE ME!". another group of 20 year olds. they also looked at the likes of me and secretly prayed that i was a fan. "come here you lot," i beckoned with my hand again, "now listen up," they listened up, "FYI, there's alot of pressure here today and everybody is under alot of stress, so, TONE IT DOWN, SING IN TUNE AND PLAY SOMETHING WITHA MELODY!" they all stared at me motionless, like i'd hit the pause button during a DVD.

my gaze then fixed on the get-up the guitarist was wearing - skin tight acid yellow skinny jeans over his skinny legs and a long blonde ladies' wig. i pointed at him, "and YOU!" the look on his face was like that of a school boy who'd been spotted by his teacher playing games in the back row thinking he wasn't visible. "yes you. either lose the wig or the pants, you cannot be wearing both oKAY?" the drummer stood up to look. he was chubby and wearing skin tight red three-quarter ladies jeans! i mean, talk about what NOT to wear! "uh uh," i shook my finger at him, "sorry those pants have got to go, you cannot be seen dressed like that. i'll tell you what, lose the pants, take this guys' wig then it'll all balance out."

i hopped off the stage and returned to derek.

they hadn't moved a hair when i turned back to look at them as i was about to take my position on the floor. but they must've got their balls, or maybe their collective ball back because they started to play.

they played. they weren't half bad. i felt a like a bit of a shit.

and i felt like an even bigger shit when after their opening track the lead singer announced to the crowd: "uh, before we carry on i'd just like to say that the reason we're wearing these pants is because...". i still don't know the reason because i burst out in a scream of laughter that almost tore my oesophagus. i'd been harsh on them these poor aspiring young rockers, doing my best to snuff out the stars in their eyes. he repeated himself after the second number, "uh i'd just like to remind everyone that we're wearing these pants because...". i still don't know what he said because by then i was wasn't human anymore, i was just a pool of shuddering tears on the floor.

they changed into what must've been their civvies for their second set. i laughed some more but felt bad in retrospect. they were nice enough kids.

the last act was an afrikaans hard rock act (this combination never works well together) who, deep down knowing they would never hit the top of the coolness charts overcompensated by yelling abuse at the english speaking crowd. they tried to scream their way cool for their 30 minutes. i had visions of walking up to the amplifier, pulling out the plug and snapping it off with my teeth like a tailor would do with a cotton thread. but, fingers plugged in my ears i took solace in the fact that his vocal chords would be worn through like a piece of frayed string and after today and i would never be exposed to his singing ever in my life again.

anyway, at the end of the day, not being able to wait for satan to make his royal appearance any longer, the judges took to the stage and, how do i put this without sounding like a hysterical little girl, "WE WOOOOOON!!!!". we won for best large black and grey AND best large color.

we were, and still are elated, beating all the internationals including and ESPECIALLY Bernie Luther from Austria who was, until that moment, the best in the world.

i know that winning isn't everything and it's the journey that actually counts but who remembers the journey when you're standing with a trophy in your hand and cameras flashing ay you like a strobe light n a disco? what a truely awesome moment. a moment that instantly made the years of disapproval and disdain from everyone vanish like a dark stain on a black shirt. i'd suffer them again in a heart beat.

well done US! well bloody done.

(note to sandy: FYI, now that you're pretty much a rockstar, stay in shape, watch that wardrobe, and, well maybe in your case you might get further in life if you SOFTEN THE F*** UP!)