Wembley Arena
Seagulls! The Elderley! Welcome to Bournemouth!
I grew up not too far from Bournemouth, and on one occasion we came to try out the swimming pool at the Bournemouth International Centre, which features a wave machine. It was significantly less exciting than I had imagined, especially since the sea with actual waves is mere seconds from the BIC, and there's less chance of losing your teeth on the side of it. Today there are people surfing on minature waves in the actual sea. Jim likes to surf and, as we all know, Matt is also an accomplished surfer, but sadly we forgot to pack our wetsuits.
The BIC is the kind of place which is more accustomed to hosting gigs by Lulu, and where there is an announcement on the PA that goes "Tonight's Feeder Concert will commence in five minutes", to give you time to straighten your regimental tie and drain your glass of bitter lemon before taking your seat. They have put away most of the seats, but the room is still only a quarter of the size of last night's hangar. It's cosy, in fact, and gets very very busy with Young People In Wide Jeans And Hooded Tops later on.
They are a very friendly audience and we rock them to the best of our ability. Afterwards Grant from out of Feeder drops by with some champagne, we thank each other and nod a lot. Our brief tour is over.
[CUT TO CLOSE UP ON BEN'S WIZENED OLD FACE]
BEN (V/O): I know I'll never forget those crazy days of the Feeder tour. It seems like we found out so much but learned so little. [CUT TO SLOW-MOTION FOOTAGE OF BAND ON STAGE. CUE SOUNDTRACK: BARBER'S ADAGIO FOR STRINGS]. The bonds of fellowship we forged on our journey that week, smelted in the furnaces of Arenas far and wide, hammered on the anvil of Live Performance, and honed on the whetstone of a living, breathing Audience; those bonds can never be broken. And as I look back at those six days in December, I can say to myself, "I have truly lived".
"We're called Aqualung... See you next time... Goodnight..."
[SFX: CHEERING CROWDS]
[ROLL CREDITS]
