Imagine an audience with the same sophistication as Sid the Sexist, the feminine finesse of the Fat Slags, and the human compassion of the Bacon family, add a bass, guitar, and drums and lo and behold, this was the scene as the infamous MACC LADS brought their "highly offensive" tour to the capital city.
If there is anyone unfamiliar with the characters from Viz, I suggest you either buy a copy or ask one of your mates to explain. For those already initiated into this literary institution, you'll get the drift that the atmosphere at this gig was far from relaxed.
It's always a worrying sign when you enter a venue to see punters walking towards you with blood streaming down their faces whilst their friends are discussing one of the other unfortunates who'd just been carted off to hospital with a broken ankle. Never mind, I'm sure it was just everyone getting into the spirit of the night!
Having endured the support act, EDDIE SHIT, whose stage act involved a toilet (I'll leave it to your imagination!) I was eager for the boys from Macclesfield to hit the stage and thereby prevent me from being hit by one of the many pint glasses flying between the balcony and front of stage area. It was therefore with a sigh of relief that the lights went down and the unmistakable chords of "Teddy Bear's Picnic" started up.
But even with the Macc Lads on stage, the torrents of abuse continued. The audience requested the band to "go away" whilst commenting on their plumpness and questioning the marital status of their parents. The references to the portly nature of the band were actually quite unfounded, although the description seemed more appropriate to the band's bouncers, who appeared to be a permanent fixture on the sides of the stage. Indeed, one of these friendly chaps, whose warped facial expression indicated a frontal lobotomy, kindly obliged when requested to remove his shirt and drop his trousers in order to satisfy the crowd's desire for blubber.
So what of the band? Well, they obviously did something for the capacity crowd whose slam-dancing performance brought back memories of the golden age of punk. Indeed, the predominantly male audience revelled in the behind-the-bike-shed schoolboy humour as the Macc Lads performed songs with valuable social statements on the subjects of: drinking, copious quantities of beer, attempts at sexual gratification (often resulting from excessive consumption of alcohol) or venereal diseases (undoubtedly caused by a combination of the former two).
Intimate relations of the woolly kind were featured in "No Sheep Till Buxton," whilst SWEET's "Blockbuster" was reinterpreted as "You Fat Bastard." Do these boys have a fat fetish or what?
However, after a few numbers in this vein, the joke wore a bit thin and the songs started becoming rather too repetitive. The first encore was brightened up, however, by a girl perched on someone's shoulders, displaying her breasts to the world, much to the delight of band and audience alike.
After some derogatory comments towards Southerners, the band finished with their version of the MONKEE's theme, "Hey, Hey, We're the Macc Lads," after which I was more than happy to escape the building alive.
If you like the vicious northern humour of Viz and relish having drink spat or thrown all over you whilst trying to avoid (or inflict) serious injury, then fine, I'm sure a Macc Lad's gig is the place for you. If, like me, these elements do not appeal, though -- you have been warned.
Roger Evans
Riff Raff
May 1990
However, after a few numbers in this vein, the joke wore a bit thin and the songs started becoming rather too repetitive. The first encore was brightened up, however, by a girl perched on someone's shoulders, displaying her breasts to the world, much to the delight of band and audience alike.
After some derogatory comments towards Southerners, the band finished with their version of the MONKEE's theme, "Hey, Hey, We're the Macc Lads," after which I was more than happy to escape the building alive.
If you like the vicious northern humour of Viz and relish having drink spat or thrown all over you whilst trying to avoid (or inflict) serious injury, then fine, I'm sure a Macc Lad's gig is the place for you. If, like me, these elements do not appeal, though -- you have been warned.
Roger Evans
Riff Raff
May 1990
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