BUSTIN’ OUT!

Funk Moonbeam signin in! After an uncomfortable night the feds grilled my for an hour with their legal double-speak. The upshot is that the charges against me are being dropped. I still don’t know what those charges are, or who brought them, but I’m sure glad to be bustin’ out so I can get back to my music.

The Samoan seemed pleased for me and we talked like father and son as I waited for some crazy legal documents to be cooked up. He advised me that I have a rare talent-and he should know, he was there at the start of it all in the seventies. He laid out a genius plan, and the best bits are set out below:

1) Get me some wheels. He was fixated on me gettin a red ragtop if I wanted to do it properly (Ace, Tiff and the gear could follow in a van).

2) fill said ragtop with recreational narcotics and at least one weapon (I was ahead of him there on all counts).

3) get on the road to Rome. The Ethereal Festival is due to start there in June where all the seriously cool music guys get it on. If I can get the band there in one piece and on time and if I can find Stockton then a record contract is mine.

The Samoan won’t be gettin out any time soon so when I find Stockton I gotta say “Dr Duke says that the Gonzo vibe lives on in this skinny ass kid” or some shit like that. This will make it clear beyond doubt that the Samoan sent me with a full endorsement.

When the feds finally came for me the Samoan put on his loin cloth and held me, weeping as though we may never meet again. I was powerfully moved and left him my ipod and mobile and told him that I’d be in touch and that he’d never be far from my thoughts. Then I left, determined to get to Casbah in Verbier as a matter of urgency to clear my mind and nostrils with a hearty snort of ether and a magnum of Grey Goose. Tiff was certain to be there and I had no time to waste in gettin him on board.