Will I get there, though?

I'm hoping to see the Nightingales and Gine Birch tonight at the Spitz.
Will I get there, though?
It's becoming a joke, these attempts to go out. I remember in Brighton, Robert and Rod (the Chefs' first drummer) sitting with the NME, reading through the gigs they couldn't afford to go to.
'Ah yes, the Fall are playing Manchester tonight'. 'Pity we can't go'.
'The Clash are playing Brixton'. 'Pity we can't go'.
I sit here leafing through Time Out, wishing I was out, suffering Trinny and Susannah (I'm sure they are the girls that bullied me at school). Tonight, I'll just have to go for it, I think.
Meanwhile, I'm singin' and playin' getting ready for the gig in Brighton, having the familiar rock'n'roll nightmare that nobody turns up; they are sitting at home with a copy of the NME saying, 'Pity we can't go'.