Sure, what else would you be doing on a dark, blackened Sunday evening in the dark, blackened side streets of a dark, blackened city but sitting upstairs in a dark, blackened venue enjoying some dark, blackened heavy metal? Not much, really… which is why Monk uncurled himself from his sleeping bag under the bench in the corner – well, he did feel like he’d been living here for the weekend, as this was his third gig here in as many nights – dusted down his battered leather jacket, hit the bar to drain the remains of last night’s left over JD and adopted his usual pose beside the sound desk for what promised to be a special collision of black metal forces with one of the Celtic giants of the genre riding into battle with his English counterparts…