But let's just try. Last night at Brixton was just brilliant. That was The Pogues at their fantastic best, a band on tip-top form, as good as I've ever seen them. Shane, once his voice had warmed up, sang beautifully.
The band did what they do best: it was exhilarating, exciting, invigorating, life-affirming stuff. Made you realise that despite whatever pain and sorrow, life is worth living.
We sang and we danced and we punched the air. And we were (relatively) sober too.
Thanks to everybody who made it happen. Special thanks to Mr C for what you did for us last night. The smiles on the faces of my party showed how much it meant.
Thanks too to David for getting us there again. No thanks at all to the idiot who threatened the whole event by throwing beer over the mixing desk. As my old dad would have said, "If you can't hold your drink [literally in this case], it's better not to drink at all." You deserve your arse kicked. But it didn't ruin a wonderful night.


