Stop the press: Ratcat was just in my car

Last night I woke underneath a blurred ball of howling fiends. The Mean Cat had broken into the house and was fighting my cat right on top of me. I thought I had been deported to the pits of hell. I yelled and the cats disappeared leaving me lacerated and bleeding from head to foot. This was not an omen of things to come.

The plan was to meet Superman for a night of poetry then maybe have a coffee, talk about the poetry and head home to pick out my most boring tie for the office tomorrow. Instead Superman was late and missed the poetry altogether. He arrived just in time to dive in my car and be sped away to Marrickville.

During the course of the afternoon I received a text message cordially inviting me to spend a few listening to The Cruel Sea get their groove on in preparation for their big gig tomorrow night. It is not sensible to suggest that this invitation required thought or consideration.

The room was small and tropical. Superman and I lounged on an enormous red bench seat that ringed the room, companionably close to Spencer and Madam Squeeze. Tex Perkins roamed the space microphone stand in tow singing every damn thing from Black Stick to a quite unexpected and calm Bohemian Rhapsody. The band was tight despite the odd dropped ball befitting the relaxed atmosphere. The bass player, who looks remarkably like Tim Rogers, has an elastic physicality to his playing that leaves nothing to be desired.

I think its the way Tex stands. The earth isn't made from rock for nothing. He draws it up through the flat booted soles of his feet until it gathers force and he lets rip. His presence wound its way around the room eating air and climbing walls until there wasn't a still molecule amongst us. Tex Perkins is frightening like he has more edges than middle.

Superman was grinning from ear to ear, I don't suppose he could believe his luck. I know I couldn't. He tried to pull a Tex Perkins face but the grin wouldn't disappear. I kept commanding "Stop grinning!" but of course he couldn't and this lead to the question "Does my grin look wolfish?". Hell yeah is what I thought, I don't think a grin could get more wolfish but I didn't think it would be polite so I said no then modified it to maybe just a little bit.

Superman decided that Tex Perkins did not look very tall. This necessitated a strategic walk by and an independent judge. Madam Squeeze declared Superman to be about a hand taller than Tex Perkins. This was a revelation for all involved, except maybe Tex Perkins who had no idea what we were doing.

My my, whoever has tickets for the Metro tomorrow night is in for a hell of a show despite the relative height of Mr Perkins.

I gave Simon from Ratcat a lift into Newtown. He is shortish, aging and fond of wearing leather caps. I used to want to marry him when I was in high school, don't tell anyone. Later that night Superman sent this message: Ratcat was in your car!

Yes indeed. Ratcat was in my car.