Because the first thing you do when you’ve paid off your overdraft and credit card is naff off to a one-day festival. Obviously. Johnny Rose (Thirteen Shots/Undead Artists) and Tommy Creep (Lupen Tooth/Graveyard Calling Records), the left and right ventricles of the UK horrorpunk scene, hoisted the Travelling Morgue banner over Birmingham three weeks back and your correspondent wasn’t going to say no to nine bands for a tenner.

First things first, a disclaimer. Your aforementioned correspondent will not be reviewing the entire lineup, ’cause neither he nor Mr. Rottencorpse and friends have mastered the art of catching public transport on time. M’self and the missus crash-landed right before Trioxin Cherry’s set and missed Thirteen Shots because we had also failed to do something sensible like obtain nosh on the way to the venue. Mr. Rottencorpse and friends didn’t make it at all, and everyone else got to play a couple more songs – which actually worked out pretty well, since a few raw and less rehearsed numbers never go amiss in the slightest.

So, from the bottom up (and the remaining, decent quality, photos are all courtesy of Kat Bennett, by the way):

Trioxin Cherry, dropping more bass than… a simile that I can’t be arsed finishing. Works surprisingly well; I’ve always liked a bassist who’s prepared to show off a bit. Songs about Ghostbusters and football ‘ooligans go a long way too. Robin’s pick of the day – something to do with liking a girl singer and relentless drums.

Lupen Tooth. For the first half of the set all I thought was “so far, so sixth form, bunch of lads acting all edgy”, not that I was cool enough to be in a band when I looked that young. I won’t lie, though; they surprised me with a ballad that was the funniest thing I heard all day. I caught myself singing it the other day and it still put a smile on my face, so… Lupen Tooth are all right and I’m just a miseryguts.

Headstone Horrors. Proper no-nonsense gravelly, pacey classic punk that doesn’t give itself airs and graces and happens to be about zombies and shit. Bought the EP on sight and if I were skeevy enough to give out some sort of sexiest vocalist prize it’d be a no-brainer.

Gravedale High… OK, let’s get something out of the way first. They’re not bad. They’re men on a mission and that mission is to play short, sharp, super-energetic horror punk from the Misfits end of the spectrum, and they take it all very seriously and it sounds great. My only beef with Gravedale High is… look, if you’re going to start talking about “verbal contracts” with your audience you sound like Phil from Quality Control and Phil from Quality Control does not make me want to rock out. I am evidently in the minority here though, so let’s chalk it up to me being a grumpy autist gobshite and move on.

Army of Walking Corpses. Heavy as fuck. Their studio sound doesn’t do the live show justice; these guys are proper grim, with a flair for the atmosphere and the slow burning intro and the slamming you onto the floor with deep dark noise. Di’Anno-era Maiden on a B-52. Endorsed several times over.

Zombina is an adorable Scouse ditz as well as an awesomely theatrical frontwoman. Why did nobody tell me this? Anyway, the de facto headliners were exactly what you’d expect; demented, ska-tinged, with a charismatic cabaret style and a whiff of acid-tongued bubblegum pop and – look, they’re a proper melting pot of influences and it all makes for a good time.

Bottom line: It was a tenner to get in and see d3+6 bands and everyone rolled with it when things went awry and nobody sucked. At that price it’s a bargain and if you’re one of the Evil Dead fanciers you should haul yourself to next year’s the second, the very second, that Johnny and Tommy put the tickets out. If you can’t wait that long, Tommy’s running the Bristol Horror Con in October so you should get that down your gob instead. I’ll be going. I might even turn up on time and all.