But first up are the 1990s. Like a cult Indie version of shiny Franz Ferdinand, they do a kind of new britpop, (more Supergrass than Pulp) and we do like em. The band dedicate a song to the overly keen kids down the front who make up the first row (and almost their entire audience). Bless the singing chaps big toothed grin, he's bringing the heroin geek chic look to a whole new generation.

So anyway, back to our regional audience, don’t these kids know how to dress out in the sticks? My god they almost look - gulp - normal. Yeah, ok, there are a couple of Top Shop Debbie Harrys kicking about, but where are the full on White Rose Movement rejects? the Klaxon inspired new cross new rave hooded top, white jean combos?? Christ, we’re all here to see the Long Blondes and I cannot believe I’m the only girl in the room who’s thought to wear a neck scarf. What will Blondes think off us?

Well they appear to think that playing the boonhicks means Kate can get away with going casual - and wear a teeshirt!! Well I’m sorry Ms Jackson, but what the hell kind of example is that to be setting these poor impressionable youths of Northern Ireland? I mean, most of them won't have been as far as Manchester, never mind London. To these children Shoreditch is but a fantasy, Hoxton a shiny never never land they’ve only ever read about in the Guardian style pages, and the Old Blue Last a mere rumour of boys wearing girls jeans.

Having said that the LB’s put on a damn fine show and they seem to enjoy themselves, banging out tune after indie pop tune, (so much better now that I know enough to hum along). They even manage to get the audience to have a bit of a bop. (An audience who, despite their lack of knowing about Old Street, were extremely arms foldy and ‘go on, impress me‘. Tough crowd!) I do believe that by the end of the evening there was even a bit of dancing about. But that may have just been me after drinking far too much gin.

Oh, didn't I mention a gin and tonic was only £2.60? Yep, two pounds and sixty pence. HA!