Bass players

We've got some history here. 

I'll only mention two, possibly because it'll be nice for Alex to know just how low the bar is set, which should take the pressure off. 

1. Pete. 

One word describes him adequately and succinctly, and that word is "cock." 

Let's start by meeting him at the airport on the way out from Liverpool (this was a Spanish tour, some five years back). He had arranged to meet one of his online friends, someone who shared his love of - wait for it - flight simulators. I'm no fashionista, far from it, but Pete looked like a tosser from the moment you first clocked him - shorts, sandals and socks is an ace look, right? His friend was a four foot twig with long greasy hair and a baseball cap with "Boeing" on it. Peas in a fucking pod. 

Pete would, so he told us, fly a whole 13 hour flight to Singapore on his PC and not use the autopilot. So he would sit in his "cockpit" (or should that be "cock"pit?) with a pile of sandwiches and a thermos and fly level at X,000 feet for hours at a time. What a challenge. 

Pete added to this revelation about his hobbies by revealing a further penchant for fundamentalist christianity which wore thin rather quickly. Chris is a christian, but a rather pragmatic and sensible type. I'm Jewish (non-practising, atheist in reality) and David is, I think, some kind of Satanist. Maybe. Anyway, Pete insisted that it was simply a matter of fact that I was going to hell for not believing in the worth of Christ. Nothing personal, you understand, that's just the way the universe is constructed. I'm a Jew, therefore I'm hellbound. C'est la vie. 

Pete managed to insult everyone - he told a promoter who had splashed on a decent meal for us (a rarity) that the wine wasn't up to much, made a couple of borderline racist comments about the Spanish and, incidentally, made some instrumental piano pieces sound like they were being played in a Vegas hotel lobby. 

On the way back, waiting for our luxury Easyjet flight (this, of course, after the usual lecture from Pete on the kind of plane, kind of controls in the plane and how he "could definitely land it if needed"), we're standing at the front of the queue for the plane. They announce that seats 60-100 or something can board. We've got rows in the front, so have to stand waiting for everyone to file past. A woman and her husband pass through. The man walks past the flight attendant who has checked his boarding pass.... 

Pete then slams his arm between the woman and her hubby and screams out "Not you!" to the woman, "You're seat 59 so you can't go on yet!" 

Cue silence from the whole departure lounge. The only certainty amongst the shock is that we three others are clearly with this guy. I can feel the flush of embarassment reaching my face. If I'd been 20 odd years younger I might well have pissed my pants. The flight attendant points out that she is in charge, not Pete, and motions the happy couple to proceed. Chris physically restrains me. I haven't hit someone since I was at school, but this is the nearest I have come. 

On top of my being damned for eternity, this is too much. In fact, I realise that my personal vision of hell would be to tour with Pete for another week, let alone the rest of existence.   

2. John

John is a really lovely guy. I mean, really, really nice. And that's probably why nobody ever let the fact that, well, he couldn't really play very well affect our relationship with him. Having realised that he wasn't much cop on one tour, we thought it might have been just lack of rehearsals. So we had him back again, and it seemed he either still didn't know the songs or just couldn't really play. 

This called for the usual professionalism - so we did absolutely nothing and he came with us again. In his defence, rehearsals were limited. Still, having had something like two years to acquaint himself adequately with the catalogue, even Dakota Suite have limits. Of course, it's not like he was officially "sacked" or anything. In fact, it's quite possible he still thinks he plays with the band, so, John, if you're reading this, we really, really love you but... well.... um... 

"Welcome to Dumpsville, population: You."

And so, that's for Alex's purposes - nothing to be worried about, lad. Apart from anything else, Alex has perfect (relative) pitch which means he's very likely to be in the same key as the rest of us. 

Bonus!