There was magic in the air last week; my spine was tingling as I entered the Tote. Something incredible was going to happen and my apprehension and anxiety danced drunkenly with each other until I became a frantic ball of excitement.

Luckily for me I found out exactly why the night was going to be so special at 7.55pm as the Tote staff opened the doors and killed the lights.

‘DUDE, what’s going on?'

My eyes followed up the skinny legs, moved quickly over the warmest looking jumper I had ever seen and settled on a face splattered with stumble and a huge grin. A grin I had seen many times before, a grin I had seen at the beginnings of evenings, at 5.35am, a grin that said ‘we are going to fuck with some squares tonight’, a grin whose owners was one Mikey Leonard. Arms were thrown round my body in embrace and not a drop of a fresh pint was spilt (it takes practice people.)

Words were exchanged about how ‘shit is going to get fucked up’, and how to expect surprises.

Leaving that dark room to venture into the front bar I visited the atm and proceeded to have a begging match with it.

‘Aw, c’mon, just a twenty.’
‘I’ve told you before, NO.’
'You are so immature.'
'I'M IMMATURE, you have a nerve! You're the one that insists on playing this boring game that you ultimately know you are going to lose.'
'Dick.'

A voice from beside me chips in and nudges the atm, ‘just give it to him, c’mon, he’s good for it.’

The atm finally gave in and I looked to my saviour to find another grin that I had seen many times before. A grin that told me that you shouldn’t sleep over the weekend and just keep going because ‘sleeping fucks you up’, a grin that I made sure was never more than 5 metres away from me at all times over last summer’s festivals. The owner was Bourkey, Mikey’s DJ competition for the night, and at the exact moment life was complete.

I watched the two start the evening as they did many others. As I stood being told that I was in line to play a mouse in a film (that’s another story) Mikey would nimbly dart in and out of the crowd with either two empty pint glasses or two full ones. The music was getting louder with each song; I notice there was definitely more physical movement emanating from behind the DJ desk as the pints emptied.

By the end of the evening the two people dancing the hardest, firing glitter canons and jumping on Tote furniture were the two DJs. Mikey did want he has done so many times before in spectacular fashion: screaming song lyrics in your face like his life depended upon it.

I adore these two men to death. Their enthusiasm and willingness to do anything for the party is unfaltering. Even when Mikey took a fairly impressive spill at the party that followed and he still danced in front of a group of us with a cardboard cut out of Nick Cave held in front of him to entertain them. He also helped a woman with a foot gushing blood do a handstand. The smile from Bourkey’s never once left his face; I remember seeing a group of people sat with him quietly listening to whatever words of wisdom he was bestowing on them.

Thank you to everyone who came…each week has been getting bigger and better and all of your constant enthusiasm and kindness is overwhelming to all of RvsP and I’m sure to the bands who have been part of these amazing nights. Thank you to Sian and Jess for dancing, raw meat, tentacles, and fake facial hair. And that you to Knik for all of his running around and making drums sound like explosions. Next week is the final week and if Bourkey and Mikey are there you can be sure it’ll be something special.

Possum xoxo