On the way home from Minneapolis after our visit to P.O.S. there occurred a rum and uncanny series of events. I’d managed to drive all of a hundred metres when Geoff’s Rap Bus spluttered to a halt outside a local branch of Greggs. Luckily the Rap Bus runs on sausage rolls instead of petrol, so in I popped, to the latest British export to take the USA by storm, in search of fuel. On the interior, the Minneapolis branch of Greggs was almost identical to the Sheffield branch of Greggs, because they don’t have a Greggs in America and I’m making this up.
The woman behind the counter pointed at me and shouted “ERMAHGERD it’s that kid that got the vegetable pasty at Damnation Fest!” After signing autographs for her children, I was invited into the back of the shop to sample a prototype vegetable pasty—named the FREEDOM POCKET—soon to be launched in my honour. As I stepped onto the hallowed ground of ‘Behind The Counter At Greggs’ the door slammed behind me, and I was alone, the autograph hunting pasty purveyor having mysteriously disappeared in a mysterious manner that I found mysterious.
Mysteriously, the room was completely dark, apart from what could only be described as a vegetable pasty sat on a plinth in the centre of the room, emitting a mysterious glow. The pasty began to address me in whatever voice you’re using to represent the pasty in your head as you read this. In mine, it sounds like Patrick Stewart on a megaphone. “How are you going to do an article about P.O.S which mentions Doomtree in a rather casual manner, and then drive your Rap Bus directly out of Minneapolis without covering the best hip hop crew since Wu Tang?” intoned the supra-natural pastry snack.
“Well, I did think of that actually,” I said, “and I thought it might be a bit much to cover the whole crew in an interesting way in one article. Also I’ve kind of already done it on another website.”
“BULLSHIT!” shouted the frightening Patrick Stewart-bevoiced talking vegetable pasty in the back room of a fictitious Greggs in Minneapolis, Minnesota. “Here, take these Doomtree trading cards and put them on your stupid website that nobody reads.”
“But,” said I, “these trading cards only cover the rappers, there aren’t any for the producers, Lazerbeak and Paper Tiger.”
“That’s because I couldn’t come up with five categories for the producers to fit into this trading card template generator we found on the internet,” said the pasty. “Just tell your readers that Lazerbeak and Paper Tiger are reyt good at making beats, and embed some Youtube clips so people can hear for themselves.”
“Yes. Shut up.”
And with that the pasty was gone (I ate the pasty), and I found myself once more at the wheel of the Rap Bus, speeding along the M1, past Meadowhall, where those cooling towers used to be, back to Sheffield. So once again I’d fallen asleep at the wheel on the motorway and dreamt about talking food. The Patrick Stewart pasty had been nothing more than a figment of my diseased and drink-addled unconscious.
But wait! What was this in my pocket? A special set of print-out-and-then-cut-out-and-keep commemorative trading cards? How fortuitous!
P.O.S. – Drumroll (prod. P.O.S.)
Sims – Burn It Down (prod. Lazerbeak)
Cecil Otter – Boxcar Diaries (prod. Cecil Otter)
Dessa – Call Off Your Ghost (prod. Paper Tiger)
Mike Mictlan – Game Over (prod. Paper Tiger, Turbo Nemesis)
Doomtree – Bolt Cutter (prod. Cecil Otter, Lazerbeak, P.O.S.)
“Oh! And one more thing,” came the pasty’s voice through the Rap Bus stereo, interrupting my Vengaboys cassette. “Make sure to end the thing by posting that video of the whole Doomtree crew performing Team The Best Team in a car park using the stereo in their tour van to play the beat because it’s one of the coolest things ever. Make it so. BYE!!!”