Kevin Clooney

Whew! That was a busy few days. First the Futureheads gigs, and then I got called last minute to do some work for ITV at one of the X Factor shows.

The Futureheads concerts were hard work - not because of the equipment or anything, but because of the band. I’ve already told you about the drummer but this time the guitarist was being an idiot, too. First off, he looks stupid: his trousers are too tight, same for all guitarists. (This doesn’t apply to jazz, but then again, what does?) Second, he tried to get off with my Donna!

Backstage after the soundcheck, he propositioned her to come back to the hotel with him and . . . well I’m not sure - try on some trousers together, probably. She told me, and I had to have a serious man-to-man word with him. But then he only went and offered me money for her, didn’t he! You know, like that film The Indecent Proposition. I nearly punched him but I would have been thrown off the crew. I wouldn’t have hit him, anyway; the Roadie Code forbids us hitting the musicians, though it’s hard not too at times.

On a lighter note, the X Factor gig was a hoot. Just standidng around backstage, mostly. I had to push Simon Cowell round for an hour in his wheelchair and then I got to spend a few minutes chatting to Dannii Minogue in her dressing room.

She still loves me. She told me she’s splitting up with her boyfriend at Christmas - you heard it here first. Probably so she can get with me, I reckon.

Don’t tell my Donna I said any of that.

Well I’m busy tomorrow and Wednesday up in Glasgow with the Futureheads who have some shows booked.

Then it’s down to Cardiff on Friday before a lovely weekend off with my Donna at home. She’s threatened to take me out to the karaoke at the Villager pub on Saturday. I can’t stand karaoke but she loves it – loves to see me making a fool of myself singing my Burt Bacharach songs more like.

The Futureheads are okay, it’s quite a good crew. The band are not bad, I suppose. The drummer’s crap - too many cymbals. the number of cymbals a drummer has in his kit is inversely proportional to his talent as a drummer. (Roadies know these kinds of things.) I quite liked that single they had, that cover of Dogs of War, the old Kate Bush song.

I wish Bush was still going, I wouldn’t mind being in her backstage crew, if you know what I mean.

Hello, Kevin Clooney here, roadie to the stars.

I’m booked to tour with po-faced progressive rockers Radiohead in the summer. I need the dosh but I’m not really looking forward to it - I’d rather be at home playing in a darts match.

There are other reasons: their amps are too big, the guitarist is always telling crap jokes about women’s private areas, and that wonky-eyed singer Thom Yorke is always swearing at the younger members of the road crew and playing crap practical jokes on them. And he once tried to chat up my girlfriend Donna backstage at the Astoria but she was having none of it. ‘You’re crap,’ she told him.

I was with them yesterday when they surprised a small crowd of competition winners by playing a set that leaned heavily on their ok third album OK Computers during a specially arranged BBC concert. They were ok. I’m glad they mostly played their old songs, though – they’re so much better than the stuff on their new album Over The Rainbows. That’s crap.

Cheerio for now.