Orlando airport 6pm (11pm UK time). I'll be 40 years old in one hour. We celebrated that fact yesterday though with a visit to the barbers to get my ear hairs trimmed. Too many stories to tell at the moment (25c a minute!!). Thank you BW for the great birthday card (how did you get Edward to pose for that?). Highlights of the past two weeks have included seeing the Scissor Sisters live at the House Of Blues, Cirque Du Soleil, the hot weather, the pancakes with maple syrup, swimming as the sun rises, walking straight onto all the rides at the parks, Dickies jeans for $11, dinner with Tyne Daly and sniffing Wynona Judds hair.

My job changed while I was away so I need to get a new hat for my return on Tuesday. Our water pipes burst in the kitchen at home 6 hours before we left for the airport so we get home later today to no water and no heating and a visit from a cowboy plumber. Did I mention it will be my birthday too? Missed you all.

I just ate a tin of mandarin segments and now it's raining. That'll serve me right. I'm still hunting for the bastard that broke Charley Stanley's nose so if you hear 'owt let me know. MTV just called to see if they could pimp my ride and last night I came downstairs to get a glass of water and caught my Mum playing Grand Theft Auto (I think she does have a penis). James Murphy on page 49 of this weeks NME - PHWOAR!!!! (nice nails and a thick neck). Tom has moved to Moscow, I've got a new phone and Darren is getting better. Lamb Madras tonight then off to Florida. Back in two weeks. Be good.

"Jinkees!"

More hoovering, dusting, tidying, hiding porn, washing bedding (not because of the porn) and putting bleach in the loo. Mum and Dad arrive tomorrow for a five day visit. Yes, five days! Thankfully we go on holiday here the day after they leave. We did some shopping last Saturday for their visit and it's been s-h-e-e-r h-e-l-l trying to not break into the McVities milk chocolate digestives.

Cracking weekend. Got drunk on Friday night with some fellow degenerates. Cleavage, new teeth, tardy timekeeper, my future wife, straight totty, neighbours, new boy, boss man and someone not so invisible now. Twas lovely to spill beer on you all.

Saturday was hangover day. We went to the supermarket for bread and milk and came out with a heaped trolley and a bill for £150. That’s a lot of bread and milk (good job I was fully stocked up on yummy hunny eh!). Went for a curry with Darren and Tom on Saturday night. Curry house was heavin’ and very noisy. The table next to us was occupied by a bunch of straight porn actors who had been making a ‘movie’ across the road in Raquels Health Club. They all shook the waiters hand when they left.

Sunday was quiet. I hoovered, wrapped some presents (I’m annoyingly organised), walked the dog, ordered pizza (free next time as it was late), had a bath, made popcorn, watched Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind (very poor) and The Cooler (marvellous) then went to bed. Darren has a cold. I’ll send him your best.

It's been raining since I got up. The sky is dark and low. I took extra care and an extra ten minutes to drive to work. I haven't eaten my lunch (Heinz tomato soup) as Mars employees were giving away free chocolate bars outside the office and I ended up with four. Two of which I ate and two I gave to colleagues. I took the bus to Oxford Street at Lunchtime and watched Tom blow £500 on shirts and a suit. I was just about to accept his offer of lunch in the Selfridges cafe (hot salt beef sandwiches) when my boss rang to say that I was needed back at the office. Traipsed back, calmed him down, sorted the problem and had a cup of tea. Ho hum.

Blackpool is on TV tonight. I thought that the first show was marvelous. I was dreading watching it last week as I feared that the town would be made to look like a cheap joke. No need to worry though, Blackpool looked great, David Morrissey looked sexy, bursting into song during the drama wasn't tacky at all (it actually validated the excitement this seaside town can generate in folk) and even if it was a bit Dennis Potter-ish there's nowt wrang wi' that.

I can't believe they're making me work so hard this week. Bloody cheek! I don't think I'm paid enough to work this hard. AND big changes are just round the corner. Changes that will see me lose my whole portfolio of struggling and underdeveloped markets and have them replaced by a GIGANTIC (and much more corrupt) nation (no, not the USA). Whatever.

The good news this week is that the junk we recovered from under the spare bed (in preparation for my parents visit next week) has yielded enough cash on ebay to pay for two weeks in LA and Vegas next February. 20 years collecting vintage 501's, NME's, and Face magazines has proved quite lucrative.

Utterly shit day at work today. Can't even bring myself to write about it. *throws back last gobfull of cheap red wine*

Nice weekend though. Went to the tip on Saturday with some rubbish. Watched movies:

Day After Tomorrow - sixoutoften
Football Factory - sevenoutoften
All Or Nothing - eightoutoften
Radio Days - nineoutoften
Mean Girls - nineoutoften
Ed Gein - fouroutoften

Went strolling with me fella and our dog in Epping Forest on Sunday. Delicious sunlight and crispy winter air. Pictures here and here.

Going downstairs now to watch 50 First Dates and eat organic rice cakes smothered in dark chocolate.

Back Fuck The Bid. All these ‘support the Olympic bid’ banners flapping in the London breeze are really getting to me. The one that annoys me the most is the one that reads ‘make Britain proud’. I want to commission my own banner and strap it to a lamp post on Embankment. My banner will read ‘make me proud to be British’. Instead of spending billions on making London magnificent for some athletes and tourists for the short period of one month why don’t we just spend the money on making the UK really nice for the folk who live here? Let’s build more hospitals, prisons and borstals. Put down some new train tracks and build lots of overhead monorail lines in our cities. Initiate ‘how to discipline your child’ courses in every town and city in the land. Reinstate the labour-exchange and adopt a sensible immigration policy (or even just an immigration policy). Allow anyone to marry whoever they like (including those poor souls who want to wed their donkeys, dogs and llamas). Stop paying single mums to stay at home. Build crèches and pre-schools where they are needed. Ensure our nurses get paid more than our MP’s. Stick our pensions offshore and get Butlins to build and run old peoples homes. Put wind farms on every hill and wave generators round our coastline, then scrap our defence budget as we won’t need to kill for oil. Become a packaging-free nation.... oh, I could go on but I don’t like to moan. I realise that these gripes are a bit childish and absurd and that those in favour of the ‘bid’ will say that most of the money will be privately raised but I don’t care. Why can’t we have the McDonalds borstal or the Virgin prison or the Vodafone hospital or the Bodyshop high school? Invest in Britain and we will invest in you.

Lovely piece in the Independent today bigging-up Blackpool. Last week it was The Times. And a new BBC drama starting tonight called 'Blackpool'. The White Stripes new movie is called 'Under the Blackpool Lights'. The Kings Of Leon will rock the beautiful Empress Ballroom in Blackpool just before christmas and the spellcnuts will eat their turkey dinner this year in the shadow of that tower.
Squeky voiced Emlyn Hughes started his career with The Seasiders.

Blackpool is the most searched-for British town on the internet.

More lottery winners choose Blackpool as their favourite British holiday destination than any other.

Each year, 10.5 million sticks of rock are sold.

Blackpool Pleasure Beach attracts six million visitors a year, making it Britain's top free attraction.

At the Pleasure Beach each season, 47 miles of hot dogs, a million ice-cream cones, 550,000 burgers, 2.5 million portions of chips and 500,000 sticks of candy floss are sold.

Two million postcards are sent from the town every year.

The world's largest mirrorball is here; 47,000 mirrors on a six-ton, 20ft sphere.

Friday is the donkeys' day off.


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The first three pictures are views from my office (we have North and South facing windows). I know these should have been added to a 'post a view from your office window' site that BW mentioned a few weeks ago but I've forgotten it. The next four pictures were taken during our last visit to Blackpool. The hunk in the bottom row is my Dad on his honeymoon and next to him is little old me being blown out of a deckchair, somewhere in Scotland, whilst reading Kafka's The Metamorphosis.

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A cabbage on a stick makes a really good weapon.

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Rob Da Bank will be John Peels replacement on Radio 1. Good choice methinks.

Alan Ball has confirmed that Six feet Under will end after the next series. Boo! The good news is that HBO have commisioned a sixth series of The Sopranos.

The Producers is to get the Chicago treatment. The theatre version of the 60's film will be filmed again with Nathan Lane, Mathew Broderick and Nicole Kidman. It will be directed by Susan Stroman who directed the stage shows.

Booker prize winner Alan Hollinghurst has been nominated for the Whitbread (that should please TD).

Ewan McGregor will be on the London stage next year singing and dancing in Guys and Dolls.

Awfully good film maker Michael Winterbottom has been replaced by Judge Dredd director Danny Cannon to helm a trilogy of films called 'Goal!'. The films will follow the progress of an American latino playing in the premiership. Shooting will begin soon in Newcastle and at St James Park. Diego Luna stars. Beckham has a role in the movie. *pray for shower scenes*

There is new evidence that eating bogies and masturbating are actually good for us (yes, even at the same time).

Blimey! A rollercoaster operator sent the first car of the day off with eight riders in it without realising a 16ft section of track had been removed the evening before.

If any of you are hospitalised this weekend just pray that you don't get put into the same ward as Paul Weller and Keane singer Tom Chaplin. Both of them have been hospitalised with throat infections. Imagine being in a bed next to those two dullards.

I’m busy rediscovering the beauty of Husker Du. Greg was always the one I fancied but Bob was the one I wanted to read the Sunday papers with (on a huge sofa in our underpants while drinking coffee). Bob is the one who said “forget where and when punk started, the important thing is why…”. I loved the complicated structure Bob created in his songs and the speed and lyrical content (public transport problems, environmental issues, sexual politics). Husker Du and their hardcore mates (Meat Puppets, Dead Kennedys, Black Flag) put punk back underground after it had reached the bargain bins in Woolworths. At the same time in England we had Discharge and The Exploited but they were a joke, their followers were glue sniffing, ugly, part time vegetarians with a contradicting swastika on one arm and an anarchy symbol on the other (and not a tune between them ). Husker Du imploded in 1987 and if you fancy taking a listen I suggest you start with ‘Warehouse’ and work your way backwards. Husker Du translates as ‘do you remember?’ in Norwegian or Swedish (I forget which). Bob Mould has a blog nowadays and you can read it here.

We dressed up and went to the bally. We had cocktails in the Eagle first then wine and antipasti in a cosy Italian cucina near Sadlers. Bravo show seats. Primo view. 12 lords a leaping, much clapping, him and him looking sooooooo good as the gay boys in the Cole Porter piece. Swamp was stunning (posh people actually do shout “bravo”). Tension and anxiety edged the troupe to a climax of four duets, all on stage at the same time, and all intermittently mirroring each other. Breathless I was. Super sexy evening.

Blimey! Sore head. Leaving 'do' yesterday for desk-neighbour. Pub from 1 till 9pm. Much drunkenness of the "you're my greatest friend/I want you to be my best man when I get married/please be godfather to my kids/I love you but I'm not a bummer/do you take it up the chuff?/aren't my girlfriends tits great?/let's do dinner and the theatre with our partners/ blah blah blah". Our boss was hosting a fireworks party for his family last night (start time 7pm). He was still in the pub when I left at 9. Oh dear. *rubs hands excitedly and looks forward to juicy gossip on Monday morning*

The spellcnuts are off to the ballet tonight. Modern stuff though. Ballet Rambert are doing a programme that features 'Swamp', a Michael Clark tour-de-force, which he created especially for Ramberts 60th birthday. Music by Bruce Gilbert (aka DJ Beekeeper and Wire bassist), costumes by 80's party monsters Bodymap and lighting by Charles Atlas. Incidentally, Ballet Rambert kicked the teenage Clark out of the company in the early 1980's because of his drug and punk rock lifestyle. (fantastic review in the Guardian)

Famous people I've nearly mown down on my Vespa (part 17):

Keith Allen. This morning, crossing Upper Street in Islington, chatting on his phone, green cords with brown shoes (yuk!).

Previous near death encounters - Paul Morley, Paul Whitehouse (with child) and Gary Oldman.

Back at work after a hectic, but highly enjoyable, long weekend. Friday was the Scissor Sisters in Blackpool. The gorgeous ballroom was rammed with glammed up nutters drunk on glitter and lager. Support act Kiki and Herb confused a large part of the congregation but made Darren and I howl with laughter at their priceless Jewish-homo-retard humour. They are sick, irreverent and rude and we love them. We squeezed our way down to the front for the Scissor Sisters entrance at 9pm. A huge white curtain was erected over the stage with the SS logo projected onto it. Suddenly the lights were dimmed and there they were, silhouetted behind the curtain. The crowd went crazy, the curtain fell to the stage, the band blasted into ‘Laura’ and we hoped that the sprung dancefloor was meant to bounce like that. We watched a few more songs down at the front then retreated to the ballroom bar to watch the rest of the set with the other old gits.
We were already drunk when we stumbled into the after show party at Sugarbear where the Scissor Sisters DJ, Sammy Jo, was spinning his trademark NYC funk/punk stuff. Blackpool’s beautiful people were out in force and even we were shocked at just how many and how stunning they were. I don’t remember much more of the evening as lager consumption had reached critical level (apparently I was wandering around the club telling beautiful girls from Halifax that they should get an agent, move to LA and do sex with film stars).
I found gravy on my t-shirt next morning so I’m guessing chips, and possibly a battered sausage, were involved in the walk home.

Saturday was mainly a day for nursing tender heads but in the evening we took a stroll down to the Pleasure Beach where we had tickets for ‘Eclipse’ at the Globe Theatre. The show was very Cirque Du Soleil including acrobats flying around on bits of string and doing implausible things while balanced on tiny bits of wood. The costumes were stunning, the stage set was impressive and Vladimir (direct from Las Vegas!) didn’t disappoint as the strutting primadonna star.

Sunday was a day of rest followed by the drive home to London in the evening. Monday saw us heading into the west end for a very gay night out. We went to Joe Allen for dinner (theatre luvvies hangout, Elaine Stritch did a shit there once) and then to Drury Lane to see The Producers. Nathan Lane and Lee Evans were great, Victor Meldrews wife and Barry Cryer were in our row, the bit where they sing ‘Springtime For Hitler’ was spectacular, the ice cream was three quid a tub and the theatre radiators were set to ‘fry’ (I’d forgotten my lace fan too). Recommended show.

*writes note to santa requesting NOT to turn into a Sondheim listening, theatre programme reading show-queen*

Must dash. Gotta pack. Off to Blackpool tonight in our car. I've been practicing my glam slam moves for the Scissor Sisters at the Empress Ballroom on Friday night. Join us for a glass or two in the Spanish Galleon lounge from 7pm onwards. Kiki and Herb are supporting so make sure you dress up. Bring your trunks if you want to join us for a spot of this on Sunday.
Do you want gravy on your chips luv?

Just hearing John Peel say this name (and then spin the fucked up dub biznis) was magical to a boy from a mining village in Northumberland.

So sad. Grumpy old man John Peel just died. What a loss. Memories of taping his show on a mono cassette recorder under the bed clothes (he was on late and I was at school). Finger on the pause button. Durutti Column, Joy Division and The Fall sessions. The festive 50. Crazy dub records from Jamaica. Calling his wife 'the pig' and his home 'peel acres'. Seeing him in the flesh at Young Marble Giants gigs and Futurama festivals. And then seeing him again 10 years later at Jesus and Mary Chain and 18th Dye gigs (and still carrying his vinyl geek record bag and a handful of fanzines).

Heaven has a decent DJ now.

Went to Sussex yesterday for a wedding. Posh village, ancient church, modern anglican service (complete with Les Dawson on the organ and applause for the happy couple as they walked up the aisle). The vicar was a Canon and he was marrying his son who is an RE teacher. God knows why two 'evil' homo's were invited to such an event but I swear I saw the verger splash some holy water from the font on us as we looked for our place in the pews ("argh! it burns"). The function was at the local Best Western hotel and was a vegetarian feast which left me unsatisfied and queasy (crepes filled with strong cheese and spinach, yuk!). There was a four hour gap between the meal and the evening 'do' (which was going to be a jazz/blues band) so, after I'd thrown up, we sneaked off home to watch Ant and Dec on telly. It pissed down all day but somehow the scenery in that corner of England is always lovely no matter what the weather.

"leave it 'arry. he's not worth it"

You eat shit cos you're stupid and shallow

I must tell you about my favourite band this week. The Futureheads and their album have come to me a wee bit late (released early this summer) but I'm so glad they got to me eventually. Blimey, angular guitars ahoy! And they're from Sunderland which makes for interesting listening as the odd 'geordie' word slips out (listen to the singer say 'joker' and 'moron' on top tune 'meantime'). They do a version of Hounds Of Love which is a right good stomper. If I had to describe their sound to give you an idea I would say they are like a cross between 'Are We Not Men' era Devo and 'In The City' era Jam (they effortlessly modernise this sound though and weren't even born when these albums came out). 4 listens today so far and it's only 4pm.Stylus said it so much better:

This band is so exciting it’s almost unbearable. They wanna change things, and they do it not by writing clever things then standing back to admire them, but pushing forward, forever forward, relentlessly trying to work out what they’re going to do next. Stick with them, because they’re brilliant, and they’re only going to get better.

I've just had confirmation from the nice folk at Warp that the tower block image on the front page of the Maximo Park (geordie art rockers) website is indeed Hornbeam and Redwood Towers in Leytonstone. I lived in Hornbean Tower for five years from 1986 to 1991. They couldn't confirm when the picture was taken so for arguments sake let's assume that it's from 1988 and that I'm peering down from my 12th floor kitchen window. They blew them up in 2002 to make way for more sympathetic housing (we get our crack dead cheap round that way now).

Stuff

Puffs with plaques. Well done Alan Hollinghurst (I hope there's more mucky bits in the new one than there were in the last two). I hope this is not the wedding Darren and I are attending this Saturday. 24 Hour Party People was a great film and the chap who made it has just had his new one passed by the BBFC without any cuts. Apparently the sex scenes are boring (though real) and the movie is only 69 minutes long (boom boom!). The fucking is interspersed with live performances from Primal Scream, Franz Ferdinand and The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club hence the title. Spellcnut faves Woody Allen and Mike Leigh have new movies at London Film Festival this month AND Woody is playing Hammersmith Apollo with his jazz band during the festival so I guess the grumpy fucka may be attending his own movie opening (for a change). I shall not be attending either of these movies as they sold out three days before they went on sale (the LFF is the most elite and restrictive public film festival in the world and you can quote me on that).

Look at the great vinyl we bought in Stockholms only junk shop.

Greetings from Arlanda airport, Stockholm. Waiting for the flight home after a great weekend with the Swedes. My dogs are barking but they're happy (shoulda worn trainers and not hard, leather soled brogues). We've walked across the islands and explored the city through a refreshing weekend-long drizzle. We got pissed with the young folks on Friday night and watched The Go! Team rock Stockholm. We slept in 5 star luxury on the waterfront and stole chocolates from the cleaners trolley. We exposed ourselves to modern art and biting Baltic winds and then warmed up in plush art-deco department stores with ten quid coffees. We saw local boys By Heart on Saturday, liked what we saw and bought the album. It's a beautiful city and the train to the airport is yellow.
We spent a fortune but feel all the richer for the experience.

Nothing has happened to me all week. Except getting wet every day riding to work. I found this website which cheered me up as I sat evaporating at my desk (and no, I was not searching for those products). I'm off to Stockholm tomorrow with Darren for a long weekend and an even longer smorgasbord. We will see The Go! Team on Friday night at a little club called Debaser (how apt, so us). I have the new Nancy Sinatra album to listen to during the flight and also the Kasabian and The Music albums in case of flight delays. Splashed out on 'superseats' for Rambert at Sadlers Wells next month (it's becoming a tradition at Spellcnut towers to start the yule season with an evening of culture and the programme includes a piece by Michael Clarke so we had to see that). It's nearly home time now and after four hours of sunshine it's just started raining again. Sods law, I get me helmet out and the bloody heavens open.

I hope Edwards new best friend isn't going to be a bad influence on him.

The Go! Team at The Spitz last Thursday were mighty grand. They were bumped up to headliners at the last minute which musta pissed The Blue States off a bit. The BS were good and I still love that track they do that was used in all the football programmes during the European Championships this summer (Trainer Shuffle?). Roll on Stockholm.

Alton Towers on Friday was mighty grand too. It was a nice sunny autumn day and the park was thankfully free from school children. I had a gnawing feeling all day that I was being followed and then, sure enough, I spotted her peeping out from under a waterproof poncho not ten yards behind me. I stroked her hair and let her ride on the spinning tea-cups with me then sent her on her way with a photo of me puking up behind the petting zoo. The new roller coaster this year is Spinball Whizzer and it’s a beauty. Darren and I couldn’t stay off it. It’s a smooth and fast ride and, as the cars spin depending on the weight of the riders, no two rides are the same. We loved it and predict that other parks will acquire their own versions soon. Nemesis was out of action but Oblivion and Air are still great fun. The new Haunted House has gone all ‘28 Days Later’ which means you get to shoot zombies with laser guns while you ride round the castle. A belly full of steak pie had dulled my senses so my score wasn’t as impressive as Darrens. Top day out.

Saturday night at Duckie for Martins Birthday. It’s always a pleasure to be entertained by the best DJ’s in the UK - The Readers Wifes. The performance this week was LaQuisha Jonz and she was fantastic. My jaw ached from laughing. Salt beef bagels on the way home and in bed for 4am.

We watched two movies on Sunday. The Lawless Heart was very good. It’s one of those clever scripts where the same scenes are shot several times, each one from a different characters viewpoint. The story is about how the death of a gay man in a very small town has affected his friends and family. I loved the marvelous Essex scenery. It’s a cliché but it was funny and sad and ultimately heartwarming. Wonderland is a movie about John Holmes (work safe) descent into a grim life of murder and hard drugs. Comparisons with Boogie Nights are inevitable but Wonderland just didn’t measure up. It was gritty and blood soaked and believable but lost points cos they didn’t show us his cock (NOT work safe).

Don't. Look. Down.



Off to Alton Towers tomorrow. If anyone is reading this and thinking of keeping their kids off school to take them to this park, then think again. I shall be wearing my truant officers uniform and I won't hesitate to impose on-the-spot fines (between £10 and £100 depending on how attractive the Dad's are). Be warned. If there are any other faux-posh folk going from London, we shall be taking high tea in Cafe Nero at about 3pm.

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Search for 'chav' on the argos website. £999.99! You can buy a council house in Blackpool for that!

Homo-erotic football headline of the day.

We watched Poor Cow on DVD tonight. Carol White was brilliant as the promiscuous optimist Joy. She was also in other ground-breaking 60's films like Cathy Come Home and Up The Junction and it was funny to discover (she so impressed me that I went straight to google after the film finished) that she started out in the movies as one of the schoolgirls in the marvelous St Trinians films.

We got our dog at Battersea dogs home. I wonder if he would have been part of Red's gang if we hadn't brought him home to live with us?

Almost enough to make a grim Tuesday afternoon at work bearable. How some folk find London Calling:

how many paracetamols overdose can kill you
igor rentboy
bendy bus nightmare
party monster talking rat scene
morten harket gay
morrissey wearing a flat cap

Remember boys, it's not a beauty contest.
(from the always brilliant WoW Report)

Join Me!
The Go! Team are playing The Spitz near Spitalfields this Thursday evening (7th Oct). I'm going and you should too. Give the Spitz a call and reserve a ticket. You'll thank me.

We thought it was Parker Posey but it wasn’t. It was some interloper called Elizabeth Banks. She out Parkered our Miss Posey in Sea Biscuit; the smile, the walk, the hair, all copied from the indie goddess. Bloomin’ cheek. Good movie though (I nearly had to reach for the tissues several times). Nice to see two-times Pulitzer Prize winner David McCullough doing some moonlighting in Hollywood as a narrator. A good moral story about second chances, loving the loser in you and being kind to animals.
*strokes Edward kindly then traps spider from bathroom in jam-jar and kindly releases it into garden*

I woke up on saturday morning with a need for speed. I failed to recruit any mates to spend the day with me flying through the treetops on rollercoasters so I went on my own. Thorpe Park was beautiful (I'm ashamed to say I've never been before) with excellent themeing and marvelous gardens. Their two big coasters, Colossus and Nemesis Inferno, are stunners and just as good as anything in the USA (UK rollercoaster fans constantly compare our rides with the Americans and it's good to know that we can build and design just as well as them these days). The only good thing about being a johnny-no-mates at a theme park is the 'single rider' policy. Lone riders can walk straight to the front of the queue and take the first available seats. This worked out brilliantly yesterday and I was able to have three repeat rides in the front row on Nemesis Inferno. I was very impressed with the themeing at the park (an aspect we don't excel at in this country), the grounds and gardens were spotless and the inclusion of a Cafe Nero was a masterstroke obviously aimed at us gayers and the non-chav visitor. I had a delicious mozzarella and pesto lunch sitting outdoors in the sun watching Nemesis hurtle overhead. Very civilised.

We watched a couple of DVD's on Saturday night. Elephant was great. It's based on the Columbine school shootings and focuses on the hours just before 'the event'. Spooky and beautiful and a calm masterpiece. Taking Lives was a bit of a predictable thriller but still enjoyable. Or am I just easily pleased?

I saw The Go! Team last night. Wow! Not since Bow Wow Wow have two drummers looked and sounded so great. AND they’re girls (I don’t mean that girls aren’t good at drumming, I merely meant that they look so much better behind a drumkit than fellas) AND one of them is oriental! Soooo cool. Singer Ninja clambers onstage after 3 instrumentals and makes everyone smile from ear to ear. Her shouty rapping suits the rhythmic pounding (no slow songs in this set) and she’s the perfect compliment to the three skinny white boys thrashing their guitars behind her. The Musical Bear says it so much better than me…

...The Go! Team have managed to tap into the intoxicating, unselfconscious glee you most likely lost when you turned from a wide-eyed child into a surly teenager. It’s loud, colourful, funny, beautiful and will make your life infinitely better. It’s hard to say if this will penetrate the dismissive ears of the modern listener long enough to be anything other than an underground concern, but wherever this is playing there will be someone with a stupid grin on their face.

The northern soul tape playing before the band took the stage had most folk shuffling about (as much as you can shuffle in the tiny Barfly, especially when it seems there's 300 bodies squeezed into a space built for 100). The Rakes and Whitey were on too but they never managed to top the exuberance and joy that The Go! Team had sprayed out over us.