It's Wilma's 30th everyone. Yes, that's right, she's 30. I know it's hard to believe. Some people just don't look their age, do they?! [Stop, stop, stop. This is supposed to be a tribute to him, try and be nice. Ed] Er, okay, sorry. So it's Wilma's 30th and he doesn't look a day over [be careful now...] a day over 30. There. That was kind, wasn't it? [Hmmm]

Anyway, what a night! Starting out at Harlequin's, which, it has to be said, is the MOST friendly pub in the world. Thanks, Steve, for the various rounds of bizarre shots and for being a lovely host to a drunken gaggle of men-acting-like-teenagers! But the night didn't end there, oh no.

On we went to Popstars, now residing at the Ocean Rooms. I must admit I initially thought it a dubious choice of clubs for the now-twice-monthly indie night. But it really hits the spot. Grungy, head-shaking sounds in the (nicely chilly) basement. Poppy, trashy tunes on the (slightly sweaty) ground-floor and funky, soul on the (just right) top floor.

If you can't find music you love here then just give up clubbing and find some other way to pass the night away. And please don't tell us about it, we can't print that sort of thing.