Stephen, it was really something

I learned two things last night. One - gladioli are NOT in season in January. Two - Morrissey is still criminally sexy.

All attempts at finding gladioli for a pithy buttonhole for last night's Morrissey concert resulted in failure. Sorry Mnemonic - did my best. We could have done daffodils, mind you. I was told he likes them and there are plenty available in pots in the local florists'. Would have made a nice buttonhole. Without the pot.

The concert in our local indie joint where I go to all my concerts (it's small and so am I - so I get to see the stage!) was a sell-out. He started the set with a thrillingly throbbing version of How soon is now? And then went on to do a mixture of Smiths and solo classics - Death of a disco dancer and Life is a pigsty were highlights - and songs from his "new album".

The voice has matured like good claret - become more fruity and rounded. His intonation is practised and precise and the 20 or more years he's been treading the boards are very much in evidence. He's a strange mixture, is Morrissey. A feline, very masculine presence puncutated by touches of high camp. The way he swings the mike lead round like a whiplash, for example. And in spite of a few extra kilos as a result of the good life in Italy, unbelievable quantities of raw sexual magnatism which left no member of the audience, male or female, indifferent.

Minor quibble - I really love You have killed me and thought that he'd end on a high note with that. But it wasn't to be. Still - he has't lost his touch.

Sorry for the photo - you'll have to take my word for it that it's him.