We climaxed with an[B] 'Under The Bridge'[/B] that was nothing short of sublime and finished with a frenetic version of [B]The Stooges[/B]' [B]'Search And Destroy'[/B] (during which [B]Mr Kiedis[/B]

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London Camden Dingwalls

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London Camden Dingwalls

Poodles are descended from bear-hunting dogs. Fact. Big, rough, tough, jolly fuckers they were. It’s taken decades of inbreeding to produce the modern, soppy, poncy little modern poodle. And the [a]Red Hot Chili Peppers[/a] are like good, ol’ fashioned bear-hunting BIG rock-poodle muthaf—as, OK? And that’s why we don’t like ’em.

Smelly, vicious, ugly, sexist, dangerous. Prone to shitting on your carpet. Ugh! We prefer safe little, nice little, smug little, yapping little clever-indiepop toy poodles that you can sit in your lap and shampoo and dress up in pink ribbons and stroke and hug and cuddle and mother and smother with oodles of doggy-woggy love for ever and ever. Don’t we?

No we fucking well don’t. Because, for all their faults, the Red Hot Chili Peppers are like American Werepoodles In London tonight. They FUNK! Ugh! They ROCK! Ugh! Despite the fact that normally-shaven hyperactive bassist Flea is sporting hair so ugly it’d look crap on a wart hog. Ugh! Despite the fact that guitarist [a]John Frusciante[/a] indulges in a tad too much ropey ol’ rawk bollocks look-at-me fretboard noodlewhinewankery. And despite the fact that singer Anthony Kiedis has dyed his hair shocking blond and has ended up looking like Emma Noble after a car crash and a double mastectomy. Yes, despite all that, Kalifornia’s premier socks-on-cocks rockers – Zimmer frames and colostomy bags waiting in the wings – hunted bear tonight and caught, slew and ate the muthas. With gusto.

And it was… well, cool is the wrong word here, isn’t it?

We climaxed with an ‘Under The Bridge’ that was nothing short of sublime and finished with a frenetic version of The Stooges‘Search And Destroy’ (during which Mr Kiedis still looked more Page 3 Essex than Detroit Dirt Box) and on the way the Peppers gamely sprinkled new stuff offa ‘Californication’ in with the stuff that was guaranteed to make this audience of mostly slightly-manky-at-the-edges ol’ rock dogs go “WOOF!”. Which we did. A lot.

So, today’s lesson is, kids – ALWAYS eat your greens, NEVER mix your metaphors and remember that sometimes the baby gets thrown out with the bath water. So if you are thinking of getting a poodle this Christmas, our advice is to invest in a strong leash, some air freshener and an electro-prod and to go for the big, smelly bear-hunting version. They’re so much more fun in the long run, honest.