Getting asked to play at Big Day Out was exciting, but not really surprising. Not because I thought we were good enough to play there, but because I was used to Jerome scamming something ridiculous. This time he’d managed to convince someone to let him set up a makeshift stage in a shipping container. A big metal box in the hot summer sun, interior covered with mirrors and a table with turntables and speakers under a mirror ball. It was so small you could only let about 10 people in at once for five minutes of dancing. Then the two blokes on the door, dressed only in Y-fronts and hardhats holding large rainbow umbrellas, would let the next group in for more dancing. I played my hour set, early in the afternoon, about three or four, and at the end I think it was Max who came in to take over from me. As we were swapping over, the group of people in at the time were particularly rowdy, and all dancing and screaming in their bikinis and boardies because of the heat. One girl got so excited, she stripped off to her birthday suit, and grabbed the closest guy she could, performing fellatio on him against the mixing desk. I signed over to Max, left the container and told the bloke on the door what was going on. He politely asked her to put some clothes back on and leave the container, before asking her for her phone number and wishing her good day.
