Saturday saw the Filthy Spectacula venture into dark new territory – Birmingham …

Courtesy of a very kind and generous invitation from Cogs Bar. You can’t see very much of the venue in these photos due to the cloud of darkness shed by Mr E, but it really is something special – even the light fittings have slowly-cranking gear-trains in them. They certainly don’t do things by halves, down to a steampunk-inflected cocktail list.

They hadn’t done us by halves either, hiring us for a 90-minute set (one of our longest ever) and supplying a very high stage for myself and Lord Harold to dominate from, over the shoulders of Mr E prancing on a lower podium-cum-stub catwalk towards the audience.

Really there were just two things missing from this evening. One was the Dreadful Helmsman, condemned to stay in the southwest by some kind of complicated wheel trouble (should have taken the canal, there’s enough in Birmingham – and Bristol).

The other was you. Or more of you, anyway. That dance floor could have done with more drunken gyration, despite best efforts of Mr and Mrs Gregory ‘Fox Head’ O’Regan, Heather Henthorn and long-suffering driver husband, and the present band widows.

So next time we play there – and we will; December is in consideration for a return date – come down, join us, down a few Cthulus and see if you can get the bar girls to dance in their uniform top hats and goggles. In fact, even before then, just go there and check it out if you’re local. Well worth the trip.

Cogs may be building up their business, but this was the end of my busiest run of summer gigs (yes, I know it’s now mid-September and summer has definitely gone). Not that I’m getting time off, but activity slows through the next 6 weeks to more like a gig a weekend than 2 or 3, with Kindred Spirit bar gigs coming back to the fore and String Project rehearsals resuming. What will I do with myself? Well, come back to find out …