Sex City

I knew Sheffield would be awesome. I knew as I saw it had been booked. I am well in tune with things me. I am a conduit. Bbbzzap! REASONING!

1: I saw my little cousin Lara, who is in rude health and, cleverly enough, studying French and Italian and Spanish at university. The French have six words for "love", they tell me. Not enough.

2: The opening act, NY electicians Hey Willpower, we hugely entertaining.

3: There were baguettes on our rider.

4: The gig itself was explosive, wet, loud, slick, and as fun as such things get. A dissproportionate number of those in attendance were good-looking, and knew all the words.

5: My DJ set, which took in Narstie, Motley Crue, The Clash, Cyndi Lauper, Benny Benassi, The Smiths, and The ODB, was brilliant. Even the kids who kept being denied their Klaxons requests had it.

6: The fine people off Sheffield: Jon and co, Lauren, Kirsty, Emma, Translucent Matt, Ben, Gemma, Annie and friends, pretty much everone I met. And our bless shy promoter. And the Def Lepard loving sound folk. Big up!

7: Collosal Irony. "You're the luckiest guy in the world," noted one finelly-coiffed dude towards the end of the night, as we danced. "You could have anyone you wanted in here." Well, I am pretty lucky. I haven't been locked up for, like, 14 months. But she that I wanted in there was not, in fact, In There, but, to the best of my knowledge, resting in South London. So it goes! So it goes.

And us, we goes to Brighton. It is the last day of the tour.