Well, an interesting Knightly all round. You'll see why I wrote that exceedingly and very witty clever play on words in a moment. So Saturday arrived and myself and two fellow friends took to the streets of London with the intent of seeing that fine bunch of musicians and well known middle-of-the-road band Motorhead; supported by some chaps of equally high morale fibre, The Damned. However, before we set off for The Hammersmith Apollo, we decided to have a few "warmers into the bank" in Soho. I was, however, slightly disappointed that I was only one out of the three of us not wearing a hat; even more so when the rains started to fall. That said, I was pleased with the choice of vintage leather jackets we all had decided to wear, even without prior conversation (we aren't like women you see); and of course we were all wearing the obligatory Jeffery West footwear. I was pleased that we appeared to look the part. We also popped into Blaqua on Carnaby Street to say 'How do" as it was on the way to our first calling point. The chaps there weren't too keen on joining us for the evening, and they were probably dressed in a style more suited to a Kinks gig. Anyway we visited a number of bars one of which was Garlic & Shots on Frith Street, where we drank a small tot of something that can only be likened to a full Vindaloo curry in a very small glass. Now feeling quite perky, the other chaps became hungry, and remained so even though I stated on a number of occasions that eating is in fact cheating. This appetite led us to a dark and mysterious underground place (of very high repute, I might add) on Dean Street. We were welcomed by a roaring fire and homely Georgian decor, and only a small number of people. 
A few flights of stairs led us to a door with "private party" on it, so of course we went inside. Unfortunately, this party wasn't for us...we were very, very surprised. The chap who greeted us (who I now know to be Benedict Cumberbatch...you know the Team Captain in Starter for 10) wasn't too keen on letting us in, even though a fine looking young lady behind him did say...her words "oh come on, they look like fun" in fact, I'm quite sure she was pleading with him to let us in. But, by this time, however, they had blown their chance and we were heading back downstairs, for two of us to eat. The three of us now sitting in the corner, warm and toasty and blending in quite nicely with our surroundings, were distracted. A chap walked in, who can only be described as 
Captain Flashheart from Black Adder. A fantastic flying jacket and accessories to boot. Nice work we thought. However, it quickly became clear that this was an exceedingly clever diversion tactic designed to attract attention away from the young lady walking closely behind. This just so happened to be a very unassuming, yet clearly beautiful Keira Knightly.
This is no word of a lie and thankfully the paparazzi were nowhere to be seen. I'd like to say they joined us and we chatted into the wee small hours, having much fun and sharing many anecdotes. But this was not the case, unfortunately we had to say our goodbyes and fulfil our initially intended objective of having a bit of a jig to Motorhead. This we did, with much frivolity. We missed the first two bands of Straight Lines and Girlschool, but caught all of The Damned and the entire set from Motorhead, who did not disappoint. Lemmy was even wearing a hat, which made me think we should start a "bring back hats" movement.
A few flights of stairs led us to a door with "private party" on it, so of course we went inside. Unfortunately, this party wasn't for us...we were very, very surprised. The chap who greeted us (who I now know to be Benedict Cumberbatch...you know the Team Captain in Starter for 10) wasn't too keen on letting us in, even though a fine looking young lady behind him did say...her words "oh come on, they look like fun" in fact, I'm quite sure she was pleading with him to let us in. But, by this time, however, they had blown their chance and we were heading back downstairs, for two of us to eat. The three of us now sitting in the corner, warm and toasty and blending in quite nicely with our surroundings, were distracted. A chap walked in, who can only be described as 
Captain Flashheart from Black Adder. A fantastic flying jacket and accessories to boot. Nice work we thought. However, it quickly became clear that this was an exceedingly clever diversion tactic designed to attract attention away from the young lady walking closely behind. This just so happened to be a very unassuming, yet clearly beautiful Keira Knightly.
This is no word of a lie and thankfully the paparazzi were nowhere to be seen. I'd like to say they joined us and we chatted into the wee small hours, having much fun and sharing many anecdotes. But this was not the case, unfortunately we had to say our goodbyes and fulfil our initially intended objective of having a bit of a jig to Motorhead. This we did, with much frivolity. We missed the first two bands of Straight Lines and Girlschool, but caught all of The Damned and the entire set from Motorhead, who did not disappoint. Lemmy was even wearing a hat, which made me think we should start a "bring back hats" movement. 
