romanticism gone to ground

I was at the 12 Bar last night to see The Butterfly Stitch. They were excellent as ever, but if they persist in playing that venue its miniscule stage will eventually ensure they suffer a slapstick calamity, as the cello bow impales the singer's eardrum and he then falls into the bassist, causing him to swing his instrument and knock serious_k into the drumkit.
In the meantime, this temple to all things acoustic has been quite adequately profaned. martylog was playing drummygirl and myself the new Girls Aloud on his iThingy, producing the inevitable excited shouts, as the headliner soundchecked. Except we suddenly realised he wasn't soundchecking, he was playing his set. Ooops. We are bad, bad people.

A discarded Standard on the Tube informs me that a large number of Thursday's votes were invalid, apparently because peons failed to understand the ballot papers. Spiceworld! If anyone tried to make it a stated policy that morons were ineligible to vote, it would produce predictable whinges from the PC brigade. So they've introduced it by stealth instead. Sometimes I almost begin to respect the political machine.

I'll not be in town when the Olympic flame comes through a week on Saturday, but if anyone does spot it, could they do me a big favour and put it out somehow? I'm pretty sure that would kill our chances with the 2012 bid.