Why I’m Really Leaving Mumford & Sons
There’s nothing quite like being in a band. Coming up with a group of lads used to sleeping in vans and crashing out on hostel floors after all-nighter gigs full of piss and enough Guinness to have us fumigating the night. Often I wished I had a gas mask to sleep in to escape this hilarious self-torture. But, hey, Guinness tastes great. Plus, when you play banjo in a band like Mumford & Sons, it pays to stay drunk so you can stomach what you listen to each show.
If I’m being honest here, I always hated this band. I mean, every song sounds the same right? Slow chords, strumming to a beat that builds to a loud crescendo of the sing-along chorus. Over and over and over. Give it a rest already! We get it, mate! You have any idea how hard it is to make an instrument with four strings sound interesting for a five minute song? This is why I drink until I can’t see straight. It helps me drone out, plus, the sloppier I play the songs, the better they seem to sound.
I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth here. I appreciate the band’s monumental success. I really do. I’ve slept with more barely legal snatch than an NBA All-Star in his prime. Girls just throw themselves at me. They don’t even care that I’m a banjo player. Which is great, ya know. Because all my life I’ve been made fun of for that. Imagine all the Deliverance jokes I heard in high school. They just never stopped. And most bands don’t even want a banjo. Unless we’re talking bluegrass. And there ain’t no bluegrass in England. Thank God.
Anyway, I look at this band as a paying gig, and a damned fine one at that. It more than pays the bills. I mean, I’m a millionaire banjo player. I collect rare books and once even found a signed first edition of Mein Kampf. Not many people can say that. But if I’m being honest, once I had enough money to retire comfortably, I’ve been looking for a way out. Which is why this whole Twitter controversy seemed like a great excuse to make my exit.