Dirty Pretty Things

The events of yesterday were surprising, to say the least. But here we go.

Long-time readers will remember the old forum I used to run, Pete Doherty Forum. A few days ago a member on there (Ruth) said she had a spare ticket for a Dirty Pretty Things gig. This band is fronted by Carl Barat, who formerly co-fronted The Libertines with Pete Doherty. While Pete is a hero of mine, I’m a huge fan of Carl and his new band too. So I messaged my phone number to the girl, in case she didn’t find anyone else for the ticket (I should be studying). Yesterday I get a text at around half six telling me the ticket is still there. Feck it, I’ll take that as a sign.

So I get a lift into town. We’re just reaching town when the girl texts me and tells me that they’re at a pub with the band. Knowing my luck I thought they’d be gone by the time I get there, but I’m actually in luck! I reach the pub and a good few people are outside having a few drinks, Carl Barat and the band included (Guinness drinkers they were too!). I found Ruth and her friend first, then went up to Carl and got a handshake and a photo. He was really lovely and obliging, though really is a mumbler when he talks, making it difficult to make out exact words. It’s quite endearing though! It was actually quite a big deal for me, I’d never before met someone famous that I was a fan of, and for Carl Barat to be the first one was just brilliant.

The gig was immense, brilliant setlist. At one point, the girls and I threw up a few of my business cards onto the stage. Carl picks one up and reads out “Thank you Walsh Enterprises”. Double whammy! Afterwards we bumped into a few people and got chatting and found out we knew one of them from the forum. Small world eh?

The girls had to go and I ended up wandering around making new friends (one group I got talking to were basically following the band around everywhere, some great stories they had). My journey home was epic in itself (mainly due to my absolutely horrific sense of direction and Dublin Bus being on time, the one time I don’t want them to be), but that’s neither here nor there.

So here’s the picture of myself and the lovely, mumbling Carlos Barat. Do excuse the pleasantly bewildered look on my face.

He may be famous, handsome and hugely talented, but I definitely triumph in the height department. So, if we were to disregard absolutely everything except height, Me > Carl Barat.

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