After Party / Fat White Family

Fat White Family is a band like no other.
With album “Serfs Up” about to drop, I set out to secure an interview.
I slid into Lead Singers DMs and hopes were raised when I got a swift response. But as the days went by, it was clear I was being ghosted.
Domino Records must have them flat out with promo, but give me a break!
If only there was a way to speak face to face …
Then I saw an event online:

“Club Serf”.

Fat White Family, confirmed, were playing.

Well in!

Here’s what happened on the night.

In the Uber.
Wearing green t-shirt and green trousers.
Diamante belt brings it all together.
Hope green will bring me luck.

In Victoria.
She’s been waiting for an hour.
Wearing a beige knitted jumper.

Isn’t playing games.
The streets are congested,
But …
He finds other Waze, giving traffic the middle finger.
Get to Oli in record time.
5 Stars.

First Pub?
Stones throw from gig.

First round?
On me 😉
Two double G&Ts.

Check time.
Need to leave.

But first…

Top up lipliner.
Hand dry sweat patches.
Woman cries from cubicle:
“Anyone got a tampon?”
Give her a pad.
Not all heroes wear capes,


The Windmill
We hear –
It’s radio fucking silence!

One group sat at table,
this place is empty.

Three minutes later …

I see a red door.
Open it.
I find –
They’re all smoking!
Leather coats, long hair,
long faces.
All they need is a till
and we’d be at Beyond Retro.

Back inside to find…

Lead Singer
It’s Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer!
A weathered version.
With a hint of De Niro.
Long tartan coat, beige suit and
fresh out the box,
sparkling white Stan Smiths.

Before you can say “Serfs Up”!
I see

Are those… hair extensions?!
Mom jeans, black turtleneck
and a gold chain.

Head already spinning.
Delve into bag.
Tuck into stash.
Sainsbury’s almonds.
They’re getting stuck in my teeth.
Can I Taste The Difference?
No, I can’t.
Fucking liars.


“It’s time to network.”
Elbow through crowds.
Sandwiched between two dudes.
Dude 1 has long Blonde Hair.
Dude 2 is a 50p Bob Dylan.
“What books you lads reading at the moment?”
She says.
Then disappears, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

Struggles to define his band.
Arrives at:
“We’re a cross between Iggy Pop and Prince.”
That nearly chokes …

“Sorry, I have nuts in my teeth.”
Grab his glass and down it.
Would Iggy Pop drink sparkling water?🤔

Take the stage.
No clue who they are.

Straight out of Bleach London, with
blonde hair in a loose pony.
He wears an
Abba t-shirt and black leather trousers.

Brown bouncy hair, brown suit
and brown eyes.
A better looking Vote 4 Pedro.

Holy shit!
Wait a minute-
Aren’t you the keyboardist in Fat White Family,
brother of Lead Singer?

Last time I checked …

Wore trackies, stubble
and a beret.
Goldsmiths X BetFred.

Starts to sing.
Voice of an angel,
stage presence of a sprite.
“Feet” plays.
It’s fresher by Brian.
Glance at Lead Singer.
Is little bro a threat?

Transformation Tuesday!!

Next up..

Club Serf House Band
(aka Fat White Family)

Lead Singer
Guinness in hand, gravelly voiced,
He belts out
“Bobby’s boyfriend is a prostitute.”

Chimes in.
Sax wails.
Country Western …
with a twist!
Nice one boyz.

Fresh out of almonds.
Buy KP peanuts at bar.
Tip half the pack in my mouth.
The other half spills,
forming a trail behind me.
At least Oli knows my whereabouts.

Lead Singer
Is outside.
Now’s my chance.
He’s deep in convo.
Wedged between a girl
and Saxophonist.

Dive straight in.
“Hi, I sent you a DM about an interview.”

Lead Singer
Is either in a K Hole
or just plain uninterested.

“Oh … right …

we’ve been busy with promo …
message us again?”
Not quite the enthusiasm I’d hoped for,
but at least I have better shoes.


Waltzes up to newest Fat White member.
Most understated of the bunch,
Ripped jeans and a white t-shirt.
It says “Eastfield” on it.
Plug? Finessed.
He’s hosting the after party!!!

Get us Uber to Peckham.
Magic FM plays.
Blonde Hair and Eastfield talk music.
I chime in.
“My favourite Insecure Men song is Teenage Toy.”
“That wasn’t even written by Insecure Men.”
Heart sinks.

gaff is above a chemist.
“This isn’t what you’re used to in West London,”
he says as he opens the door.
What does that mean?
Living room is spacious with
wooden floors, and clothes racks
with “kooky” patterned shirts.

In full Shrek mode.
Pedro’s not very nice, is he?”
“What?” says Eastfield.
“He’s the nicest one in the band!”
Flashback to when we first met.
Pissing in my friend’s garden..
stealing her booze..
calling me ugly…
Before I drink away my PTSD,
someone walks into the flat.

It’s Pedro.

Resilient as ever,
I throw my stick down.
“Let the battle commence.”


“Oi, Pedro.”
“Aren’t you bored with journalists saying you’re on drugs?”
“Yeah, it should be about the music, man.”
He turns back around.

I’m not done.
Tap him twice on the back.
“Didn’t you say your version of “Feet”
is better than the one on the album?”
“Yeah, ‘cos it is.”

Abba overhears.
Suddenly, “Feet” blares from the speakers.


Pedro‘s version.
It’s stripped bare.
Lead Singers voice, without all the pop, gives me goosebumps.
“Your version is great, but the other one is more accessible.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.”

We don’t speak again.

Shows me the band’s rehearsal schedule.
4pm tomorrow.
Early start considering
it’s already 6am.
Rock n roll!!! 

Puts on “Dancing in The Dark.”
Everyone sings along.
It’s as if we’re all friends …
or something.

Serfs Up! available now on Domino

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Published by Never Pure, Rarely Simple

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