Enter The JAMS 2023
August 22 / 23, 2017
At 5pm I was somewhat laughed out of work by my manager — in good jest, I’ll add. With my constant chatter about the event, everyone there is now intrigued and looking forward to “hearing all about it” when I get back. “If I return,” as they like to tease.
So with that I hot-foot it up to the Static Gallery to collect my wristband, pick number 7 (“I can draw” — they never asked if I could draw well), and buy, admittedly, more Dead Perch Merch than I’d planned to. Probably not the last time either.
I go for a shirt (which I’ll likely wear down to bare threads over the next three days), a hi-vis vest, and a poster. Since everything is priced at £20.23, I pass on the mug and the “Starbucks” cup. I already own more mugs than one person should — people insist on gifting them to me. I got five just for my last birthday.
By 23:10 I join the growing queue on Bold Street. It’s absolutely alive with chatter. I’m going to use a couple of gag-worthy, overused phrases here, but there really was a buzz in the air. The kind I’ve never felt before.
And if we weren’t already having a ball, we were about to. Sirens cut through the night — the kind that belong to an old American cop car. Or a Timelord.
Ford Timelord (an imitation, admittedly) cruises down Bold Street not once but twice, greeted with cheers like some very niche celebrity. Think Tommy Wiseau levels of cult excitement. Impossible not to grin.
At 23 seconds past midnight, the Ice Kream Van did indeed Kometh, blasting the tinny sounds of What Time Is Love? My grin went from ear to ear and I couldn’t have subdued it if I’d tried. Why should I? It was brilliant.
Cheers rolled down the street as the van came to a halt outside News From Nowhere. Out stepped Jimmy Cauty and Bill Drummond, officially marking their return.
By the time the queue reached its full length, I was about a quarter to a third of the way back. But it moved quickly, and soon enough I was standing in front of The JAMs, handing them their freshly released trilogy for stamping.
“Welcome back,” I manage to blurt out.
“It’s good to be back,” replies Bill, with a look in his eyes that says, Not that you’d remember us the first time, kid.
“This is going to be fun, see you tomorrow!” I say, before heading back to the Dead Perch. Not without grabbing a quick photo with the van, of course.
The Dead Perch was already buzzing, full of energy. I grabbed a drink and joined a lovely bunch of people from London, Wales, and the North East. We compared stamps — by now it was clear that Bill and Jimmy had several in rotation.
Then came the comparisons: the review copy of 2023 versus the published version. Not word for word (I’m obsessive, but not insane… yet), but for any immediately visible differences. And there were some. The review copy had dates and times, the published one did not. Yes, I lost some sleep over this. But I was already wired at 3:40am when I finally got home.
Everyone seemed wired, to be honest. Part of us wanted to get going right then — let’s get to work! Eventually, though, drinks wound down. In fact, the Dead Perch was drunk dry (well done everyone) before volunteers drifted off to hotels, hostels, and homes.
An incredible evening that will live long in the memory. Let’s make some more today.