AVID HOT Press readers may recall that last October your humble correspondent was abducted by three young women known as Back Alley, driven to Kiltegan, Co. Wicklow, forced to carry flightcases, instruments and a PA system into a pub, then tied to the bar and plied with drink while the group entertained several hundred baying punters. After the show, I was poured into a car, ferried back to Dublin, deposited at my door and instructed to write about the experience.
I ve had recurring dreams/nightmares about that night for the last nine months.
In the most recent of these, I m sitting at a table outside The Coffee Club on Haddington Road, breakfasting with Back Alley manager Jackie Johnston. There have been recent personnel changes in the group, and Jackie s called a press conference to unveil the new line up, plans for a single in the autumn, and an upcoming sequel to the 1998 40-minute RTE documentary profile (which drew a viewing audience of two million people).
I know all this is a dream, because it s a blazing sunny morning in early August, the kind of weather that s rarer than teats on a bull. Presently, a long white stretch limo with blacked-out windows pulls up at the kerb, discharging three haughty starlets in various states of low-cut dress. You ve met Chrissie already, Jackie announces. Allow me to introduce Laura and Sabrina.
It s all getting a bit Charlie s Angels.

Next, the dream jump-cuts, and we re in the middle of an interview. Chrissie has just explained how the group debuted the new line-up at an outdoor show in Thurles the previous weekend, where their performance proved so incendiary, the generator blew up. I ask if Sabrina and Laura had to submit themselves to a humiliating audition process?
We auditioned over 200 people, Chrissie admits. It was muck. Jesus. Sandra and Victoria were so good we couldn t just slot anybody in, we needed somebody with experience, which these two had. You wanna hear this girl sing man! (Indicates Sabrina, who beams proudly). Have you seen Back Alley yourself?
Eh, well, I did spend about eight hours with you last October.
That s how I know you!
So how have the new girls adjusted to the notoriously gruelling Back Alley gigging regime? Has it ruined their private lives yet?
We don t have boyfriends, Chrissie declares. And we re not gonna have them for two years.
Short-term relationships required, Laura quips. For uncaring women.
Talk turns to the increase in Attitoode amongst current American girl groups like Destiny s Child and TLC, and how the Irish pop climate is in sore need of such sassiness.
Have you heard TLC s new song? Sabrina inquires. Oh, man, it s deadly. It s about implants.
I ask if they d like to incorporate such themes into their own lyrics. Chrissie responds by screaming and leaping up from the table, scattering cups, saucers, spoons and tape recorders in all directions.
As it turns out, the uproar isn t over anything I ve said, it s merely Chrissie s stalker, a particularly persistent wasp (as distinct from the usual WASP), which has been pursuing her for the last hour. Your reporter gallantly disposes of the creature with the aid of a spent cigarette packet. Mr. Johnston, appalled by such a callous act of insecticide, comes thundering over and terminates the interview, demanding that I keep this incident out of the papers .
I wake up in a cold sweat, quivering with relief. n