Böhse Onkelz live in Chemnitz: The crack through our middle

Only the third song thunders from the stage, but a guy next to me, two hundredweight muscles in a faded Thor Steinar shirt, is already running completely on ethanol. His face grinds as if he had to gather all his remaining senses to make a decision about his outstretched right arm: what to do with your hand now? french fork? Fist? Or how was that with the outstretched palm…