On Tuesday evening I had the rare joy of going to a gig within 10 minutes walk of my flat. Such a thing hasn't even been vaguely possible since Smiths tribute band Band In Glove played at The Castle in Tooting; I didn't go. and did, and apparently Band In Glove were to be found wanting. In a strange quirk of fate I ended up meeting the guitarist from Band In Glove about a year ago; he explained that the band had split up when “Morrissey” quit, citing voices in his head from the real Morrissey, telling him that he must leave the band immediately. “What can you do?” asked “Johnny Marr” of me, rhetorically (I think) and with a pained look on his face.

No painful splits due to musical differences were to threaten Tuesday's gig at a Colliers Wood library, as both acts were one-person units: Caroline Martin, number 3 in John Peel's final festive 50, and music hall pirate trampolinist Momus. Pre-gig, I missed out on sociable pizza and highbrow chat in favour of hanging around hideous local landmark The Tower, eating a bag of chips. Mmm. Opposite The Tower is a recently opened Holiday Inn, offering not only “comfort-cooled rooms”, but also a quite magnificent close-up view of The Tower. I booked 2 weeks in August, before returning to the library. The gig was mercifully light on sickening banter between the 2 members of Project Adorno, who I'm certain are lovely blokes, but should really take far fewer leaves out of the dubious comedy textbook that is Baddiel And Skinner Unplanned. “Project Adorno Unplanned” features exchanges like

A: So, here were are, in a library -
B: Goodness me, yes, a library, who would've -
A: Indeed, who would've thought, it, haha, anyway -
B: …library…

Caroline Martin is high on woe, low on volume, high on charm, low on manual dexterity, high on vocal dexterity. “There are elements of PJ Harvey in there,” said Neil Scott later in a nasty wine bar which was holding its first 'steak night' of the week, “but you can't imagine her asking you to Lick My Legs.” “There aren't many people who'd ask me to lick their legs,” I thought to myself. Momus didn't ask us to lick his legs, either, but nevertheless delivered probably the best performance I've seen him do, with the rack of adult non-fiction behind him (Dewey 620-700?) providing useful prop assistance, including a Reader's Digest Book of First Aid. I handed out flyers for the Bush Hall gig afterwards; nearly everyone said that they'd be coming. “Fat chance,” I thought.

But many did. Considering the bloody gig never got listed in Time Out, it was a triumph, with about 180 people in the venue, and consistently marvellous musical quality throughout. I'd never been to Bush Hall before, and so I was delighted to see that ours and Momus's albums would be launched under not one, but several chandeliers. Thank you to Stars In Battledress and and everyone who came along, and the usual apologies to everyone I didn't talk to due to me being a nervous wreck under my enormous 20-gallon promoter's hat.

I'm now busy on a second day designing HTML emails featuring children's book character Maisy. In reply to the question Where Is Maisy? I would offer the answer “burned into my f*cking retina, thank you very much.”