We were working in Fibber Magees in Dublin in 96, and for some Fibbers reason the DJ had an argument with the boss. He then decided to grab all his records and CDs, and fuck off leaving the venue music-less halfway trough the night.
Fibbers was a heavy metal, rock, grunge & goth scene, and the boss constructed a hasty rescue plan. This plan consisted of moving me from the bar to the DJ box (cos I was the only one who knew how to use the equipment) to DJ for the night. I remember telling him that I had no music, and he told me that there was 4 CDs in the DJ box. Oh great 4 CDs and 2 of them were the current "Now thats what I call music" albums, and the other 2 were free from magazines.
After 2 dancy tunes and a nasty vibe from about forty Goths who came in to act depressed I turned to Dave in my hour of need and asked would he recommend anything from the 2 free disks.
A few seconds into the recommended track I could see Dave breaking his shite over a pint of Snakebite across an empty dance-floor, it felt like that scene from Father Ted.
Ghost town by The Specials... Thanks Dave you ruined my DJ career!
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