To convey one's mood / In seventeen syllables / Is very diffic-

Last night, because I couldn't find anyone to come with me, I ended up going to The Fall in Cricklewood on my own. Every other time I've been to see a band on my own I've really hated it because I've just felt really lonely, but this time I actually had an amazing time.

On the way there, seemingly as karmic justice for my being all alone, I got to Paddington without paying a penny and both my tubes arrived the moment I stepped on the platform. Upon arrival at the right tube station bought a bottle of vodka and drank it on the bus to the venue, which kept me company a bit, then joined the mammoth five-person queue outside. The venue couldn't have been more perfect for The Fall: an old-fashioned irish dancehall opposite a bingo hall. Magic.

Upon entering, I purchased a pint of Carlsberg, chatted to a couple of people and saw a girl who looked like a young Elani Poulou. I wish I'd been able to make myself talk to her, but instead I ran off and took up a position at the very front right of the stage (no barrier again, which is always ace).

The first support was a Manc band called The Snarls. There's not a huge amount to say about them other than that they were all visibly very fucked and their closing song (96 Tears) showed some vague promise. Other than that they were pretty a generic wannabe Rolling Stones/Stone Roses garage band.

After a bit of a wait, during which I still couldn't quite comprehend who I was just about to see, John Cooper Clarke came onstage clutching a holdall and half a pint of lager. He looked exactly how I imagined...possibly more youthful though. He was almost exactly the same as in photos I'd seen from at least 20 years ago: very wiry and thin, with big black hair and tight drainpipes. He began what was essentially standup comedy, then did a poem called Hire Car . This standup-type stuff continued throughout the set between all the poems. I don't think I've ever laughed so much before in my life; I was literally lmaoing for 40 minutes non-stop. Highlights included The Limerick That Don't Rhyme, I Wrote The Songs, Tom Jones, and Burnley. Incredible. One thing to note is that JCC was incredibly coherent. I'd half-expected him to be a bit of a slurring mess but he was actually extremely lucid, sounding exactly how he does on records from years ago. Even if The Fall had come on and played the worst set in their history, I still would have gone home happy.

However, thankfully, such a thing didn't happen and I went home even happier. To be honest the first part of the set was a bit pedestrian. I'm beginning to get a bit bored of Bo Demmick and I don't like the new intro song (Scenario/Coming down) anywhere near as much as The Boss. This was made up for though by Elani Poulou smiling at me lots, and Mark E Smith coming onstage wearing a sparkly jumper and looking pleasingly healthy, followed by the usual microphone tomfoolery. Having decided within seconds that the designated lead vocal mic wasn't good enough, he tried another, then reverted back to the original,saying "What the fuck-uh?" extremely loudly as the volume had suddenly shot up.

Theme From Sparta FC was where the set really began to get going. The chantalong managed to stay just on the right side of football hooliganism. For the most part anyway...a couple of ridiculously drunk people reaching violently for the setlist about 2 songs in did piss me off a bit. It made me realise how annoying really drunk people are at gigs...I don't want to be like that.

Mountain Energei was a bit snail-paced but Fall Sound showed good promise for the next album, along with the other three new songs. The set finished with Wright Stuff, which was another of these. At some point MES basically straddled my face and I took a hasty photo:

After a very short break, they came back on for an encore beginning with Mr Pharmacist, introduced by MES as "a song about my backstage experience". Blindness was the set closer as usual and, as usual, it was a big bone-rattling orgasm of bass, complete with a Mr & Mrs Smith synth and 'live mixing' solo and a lot of microphone movement. I helped Elani untangle the cables so her synth didn't fall over when MES walked offstage with her mic in hand, cable wrapped around the stand.

As she bent down to pick up her bag and coat, Elani smiled at me and said "bye bye" very sweetly. It made me so happy and I ended up leaving with her matches and lipstick-caked cigarette. What a night. Annoyingly, because they played an uncharacteristically full-length set, I missed the last train back to Theale, then just missed the tube from Baker Street, which led to a 15 minute wait, which led to me missing the next train to Reading by 2 minutes, which led to an hour's wait at Paddington. Eventually I got to Reading at half 2, got picked up by my tired mother and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow at 3am.

Today I had to work but was suprisingly 'with it'. Shame the new girl's useless and is being fired on Monday, having started this week. With the alcoholic chef who lasted 36 hours, they don't seem to be doing too well at the moment. That said, today was damn smooth and we had lots of compliments. Sometimes that satisfaction almost makes up for the pitiful pay. Oh and I drove there and back, so have now had three drives in a row without stalling at all. I win.

Ah bollocks, I forgot to mention The Video Guy at The Fall. He was on between JCC and the headliners. I hadn't realised it was him who introduced them at Reading...gawd it was strange. The first thing he did was a completely techno-ed up and violently scary version of Sinead O Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U, complete with fucked-up version of the video. The rest was in a similar vein really, with a fair few heckles.

In other news, I found this on my ipod the other day and I have no idea where it came from but it filled me with immense glee. It may or may not be a Star Wars-based medley.