Feels important to let everybody know that Mr thep headed south to, among other things, beard (er…) Mr Wells in his lair. He met the completely charming Mrs Wells, Mr Wells’s legendary music collection, and Mr Wells’s collection of unfeasibly large barbecue tongs (barbie not pictured). Lunch was taken, including fresh not-fucked-up-on-the-barbie-by-Mr-thep whiting, and drink. Speakers were dragged into the back yard, and a good time was had by all, after which Mr thep got on the plane, still smelling faintly of fish.
If you’ve never been driven round Melbourne by Junior Wells while listening to Junior Wells on the car stereo, you haven’t lived.