Finally the Manics are playing in your town, you thought they would NEVER get here. And now your so-called friends have decided that they have better things to do. How did you ever end up with this bunch of knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, Westlife-loving, brain-dead - well, let's not go there, they are your friends after all. F**k 'em, you're going alone. You get to the venue VERY early and find yourself towards the front of the line. Tiaras and feather boas abound, and everyone is so friendly, chatting excitedly. The doors open. The crowd rushes forward into the tiny club and you plant yourself front and centre. After what seems like an eternity and politely enduring the support band, the Manics finally stroll onto the stage so casually you can't believe it, and slam straight into the first song. The heat is incredible, by the middle of Faster you're soaked to the skin, but you hardly notice. You're rooted to the spot, a mere 8 feet from James, playing and spinning and singing as if his life depended on it. Security is kept busy pulling out people who can't take it any more. By the time No Surface is pounding in your belly you realise you're screaming his name. You glance around but no-one's taking any notice of you. A few times you feel like he's looked right at you, but he probably can't even see the crowd properly. And then it happens. It's the end of Ready for Drowning AND HE WINKS AT YOU! Your jaw drops and your knickers disintegrate. He grins and turns away. The whole building is pogoing to Motown Junk and you've forgotten how to breathe. Motorcycle Emptiness is half over before you manage to catch your breath. They must play other songs, but you're in a daze. During Tolerate he finds you again -THE look - the most erotic moment ever on TV, live and directed at you. He holds the gaze. All those hot bodies pushing around you, and the intense look in those eyes, it's almost too much to bear. Design for Life is mesmerizing, he treats the Gibson like a lover, running his hands over it, grinding his hips into it, making it scream, throwing his head back in ecstasy. You cling to the crash barrier with one hand, the other slipped between your legs. If you were actually capable of rational thought there's no way in hell you'd be doing this. You're soaked and it has nothing to do with the temperature. Your clit is swollen and throbbing, and in seconds you're crying out again, drowned out by the people singing around you. Your knees give way, but there are so many people around you, you couldn't fall down if you tried. When you can focus again James is looking very hot and sweaty, he's lost his way a bit, plays another chorus and forgets the words to Summer Wind. He stands at the mike, breathing hard, staring, half a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He whispers Goodnight and is gone.