You know it's been a good night when you wake up with a peanut butter jelly sandwich in your bed and the bleak realisation that you were too forward with Peaches comes over you.
I went to Perez Hilton's One Night In...London thing thanks to Best Buy, who sell cameras and bits and bobs.
Freebies are always wicked, but when I end up seeing Kelis and Peaches performing at an event which has been so poorly promoted that it's filled to a fifth of its capacity, I've got to feel smug about it. The journey to the front of the crowd was the easiest I've ever embarked upon, to the point where it wasn't even necessary to employ the same bargery techniques I learned from erstwhile Slipknot gigs. I still did, though.
Peaches was spectacular. Helping the surprisingly tiny woman crowdsurf is one thing, helping her crowd-walk a few years later is something everyone should do. Although the crowd didn't know her that well, she won them over with her glittering, sparkling vagina light (see below)
Kelis wasn't so interactive with the crowd, but her dancing and singing were both so spot on that I couldn't tell if she was lip-syncing or not. When Milkshake spliced into Major Lazer's Pon De Floor, my little plastic glass of gross house white went everywhere.
The VIP area, like everything else in the O2, lacked personality. We were told that people were going mental on cocaine in the toilets, but when we went in and barked 'Does anyone have any cocaine?' no-one responded. So nobody was doing any cocaine. Perez himself was drinking (full fat) Red Bull and wouldn't give us the time of day as he was too busy looking like he was the camp kid from My Super Sweet Sixteenth who promises to compere his whole birthday but eventually realises that no-one's going to come and then ends up being consoled by his overbearing mother before kicking over the cake-stand.
[Photos: Lynsey Martenstyn & Sophie Wilkinson]
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