struck down by a terrible fever, in the grip of depraved virus infection, i must be wretched, a chemical factory of body fluids and toxic molecules. my dreams assault me, batter my interior and i awake in some sort of tidal pool of sweat my mouth dry and filled with a hideous nefarious gas, coughed up phlegm and debris from the hidden corners of my churning internal mechanisms.
i stumble to the bathroom, like a zombie infestation, heat radiating from this pale surface of skin. i must stink of some rotten apocalyptic repulsive thing. 
when i see the reflection i am shocked, that twisting mass of black curls, the bedraggled beard, strange teeth that look like an ancient derelict graveyard and washed out pallor to my flesh. christ, i'm infected with some ebola like death germ, i'm already dead baby, a walking dead man. i clean my teeth and wash the sweat from my face, then crawl back to bed, praying to the gods, any god who will have me that by the time the church gig rolls by i will be better. 
later when dawn brings the birds and i watch them eating some seeds i sprinkle on the lawn. my heart is pulling me towards the surf but i can't go, i need to recover. maybe tomorrow....
the sun is out in full force, morning is joyous out there. i feel horrible as i crush some lemons into my water. this came out from the blue. i never get sick but i must suppress everything, i must short circuit the infection and blast it into suspended animation for tonight.
oxford arts factory, oxford street, packed with a new generation, i look at the hordes who flock the doors, a new generation of church people are here.
i meet up with wilde childe and kate away, we hang around outside waiting for familiar faces, i'm delirious, half from this terrible illness that is being held at the gates of my bodies defences, and half from sheer excitement. 
people stop by and say hello, many seem to comment on my hair, i look like a roman, a greek, a fat old testament giant. ah yeah, i'm ugly and wretched these days, inside and out but i must keep it together until the end of the night.
inside we squeeze as near to the front as possible, christ, it's packed and tight, i must be the oldest person here. suddenly the band come on and launch into a blistering, 'toy head' and from then on it's mental. further deeper has a fantastic live edge to it, the musicians have not only mastered the art of music and looking incredibly committed to their art, they are the art. it's watching them play together live, bless my cotton socks, it's fucking spectacular how they make their own peculiar unique noise.
now i've seen a hell of a lot of church gigs but this was different, it had a kind of groove, yeah, a groove baby. there were moments when the sound went outta whack, but it still had the groove. the audience were won over from the start, the band didn't have to work hard, they just had to play and i gotta say it was magnificent. highlights indeed, well they were all good but love philtre is a knock out.
i hope they can package this on dvd or blu ray or whatever, because as a showcase further deeper is the ultimate selection of songs, diverse and brilliant, a crafted performance by masters with just enough chaos to make it real. for about two hours i felt brilliant, cured of any illness, healed, i could see again, i could walk. did i mention, this is my favourite band.