No-one likes an alarm going off at 6am, unless you have your clock set to a time zone several thousand miles west of your current location, which would be a stupid decision in terms of everyday living. But a 6am alarm New York time would give me a pleasant lie-in. Needless to say, I’m talking London time. A cab arrived to transport myself and girlfriend to Luton Airport. He had his radio tuned to 104.0 FM, which is a frequency band not really occupied by any station to speak of, more where three different and musically incompatible stations jarringly collide. I was too tired to ask him to turn it off, and he seemed happy, so we left it, and around Hemel Hempstead it settled into a dull white noise which lulled me into a pleasant doze.

Easyjet operate flights from Luton Airport to Amsterdam, which was convenient, as that’s where we were heading. A speedy 40-minute journey to The Netherlands made my 75-minute pilgrimage from Tooting to Muswell Hill every time I want to visit my girlfriend look completely ridiculous. We landed, and were met by a long-haired man in a leather jacket saying “Hello, er, Scritti Politti?” I wouldn’t have it any other way. We were transported to the hotel in a spacious people-carrier, during which time we giggled pathetically at the concept of a child having an imaginary foe, as opposed to an imaginary friend. “Billy, who are you arguing with?” “My imaginary foe. Can he stay for dinner?”

Outside the Paradiso is the poster many thought they would never see:

Soundcheck in 10 minutes.