Purple on blue

The pub in the meantime had filled out a bit and there were now about 50 people divided roughly into none the wiser old bitter supping locals and a mix of kids of various youth tribes: punks, mods, skinheads all nonetheless unified in a desperate need for entertainment on a wet November evening in the northwest. A comfortable fug of steaming leather and lager stained denim settled above the small but cheerful crowd who looked with detached cool interest at the stage filled with old amps spray painted guitars and a strange set of gaffer taped cardboard props and various charity shop oddities.
Little legs and Walter stayed at their table but had a decent view of the ensuing 30 minutes of noisy chaos. Though a bit behind the times Little legs, still, was able to appreciate rock whatever the latest incarnation and name. As the UK Subs opined punk was just “Another kind of blues” and inside the theatrics he recognised the throbbing heart of a good tight band. Walter had no particular interest in music but liked a show and this was one hell of one. Unpredictable, weird and funny. 
A few encores later the crowd thinned a bit and the serious drinkers and smokers settled in for a few hours of music provided by “Dave the DJ” who though having dubious taste himself was open to requests of which there was a steady stream.
Despite the good reception Little legs and Walter could see that there was a serious argument brewing on stage as the band packed away their gear and Mo collected and gaffer taped together the wreckage of his props.
“Well who did then?”
“How do I know, fuck all to do with me”
Jer was jabbing his finger into Matts chest and the rest of the band had stopped what they were doing to watch
“ there was a loaf and cheese in the van this morning and now mysteriously its half the size “
“Funny how you went out “to check the oil” this afternoon”
“you know you really are the lowest of the low, I know you are a thieving lowlife but I didn’t think you would sink to that level. Only junkies and pondscum steal from their mates. That was for all of us to last till we get to the ferry you miserable piece of shit”
Things escalated, voices and fists were raised until finally out of the melee Matt the epitome of all mouth and no trousers exited towards the door
“Fuck you, find some other mug to drive you around”
Halfway to the door he hesitated, looking surreptitiously around waiting for someone to rush over and bring him back with placatory words and a beer but the band were all either looking at their feet or away. He realised with annoyance self pity and regret that he had finally reached the end of the line. His inability to control his natural selfishness and greed had caused him to lose the opportunity for an all expenses trip round Eastern Europe, which though far from luxurious, would still have been a great opportunity to fill himself with beer, fags and even the occasional drunken fuck if he had been lucky. He slunk away thinking that at least he would keep whatever was left in the van but when he got outside and felt in his pocket he realised the keys were still in the dressing room. He cursed under his breath and trying to muster some dignity strode back to the room intent on getting his key and exiting as fast as possible.
Mo sat at the table
“Looking for your keys dickhead?”
Matt glared
“You’ll find them with Jer , he’s in the van removing our property”
“Oh and we’ll be keeping this as a little reminder of your vile company and as a security against any unhelpful phone calls to the authorities you might feel like making”
He held up Matts fake MOT and Insurance.
“Exit Matt and van stage left not pursued by bear ...unfortunately”
“Wot”
“Oh just fuck off”