Of Tunbridge Wells

The Affection Unit takes me on a date to a public toilet in Tunbridge Wells. It's now a tiny club, which is hosting a set by Florrie, the new Xenomania act (hint: boyfriend is music journalist. According to me the members of Xenomania are Betty Boo, Betty Boo and Betty Boo. This is what gets me A Sharp Look).

But it's very exciting being in Tunbridge Wells. We are surrounded by tiny children dressed like they're the Mini Pops auditioning for Skins (Vintage cardigans: still so in if teemed with tights and nothing else).

It turns out there's a support act. The support act are White Boi Rappers who bound around yelling "Brap" and "Skank". "Are you going to die?" asks Affection Unit. I later look up the word "Brap". Urban Dictionary tells me: "A sound uttered when a heavy tune comes on usually heard in garage raves. Combine with gunfingers for best results." Which explains the strange hand gestures they kept making. AU points out that they're so young, they probably have never heard of Ali G, which kind of makes it all right. Their mums are standing right behind us. They are doing wedding dancing. With gunfingers.

The rapping young tories are accompanied by a girl. She's got an amazing voice and looks magnificently bored. At the end of the set she sulks away into the night, while the rest of the band stand around looking very pleased with themselves. "We're FS! We're FS! Look us up!" they keep saying. They don't appear to realise that FS is the name of a gay educational magazine about STDs. (AU checks twitter - apparently they are also called FSteam so may be aware of the confusion).

They are followed by another support act. It's a female singer who does really nice twirly folk, surrounded by men in tweed playing guitars. FS's mothers shake their heads sadly. I think it's rather nice.

Then nothing happens for an hour. During this time, the girls-wearing-cardigans-as-dresses are gradually joined by a lot of men who are tall and rather rugged with exciting facial hair and very large arms. There is still no sign of Florrie, but the view is very nice.

At this point, I have to leave to get the last train home. I never get to see Florrie. But I do get a text to tell me that she is amazing and that the bearded men have all taken their tops off and are dancing in their vests. I have left my boyfriend in Tunbridge Wells surrounded by hot bears. And that is my Friday night. Hmmmn.