Phew! Wow! What a way to end the year, eh? The memories of our last visit to Finsbury Park are still fresh in our minds and it is with the prospect of another such night in store that the band have laid on a coach for the second time. Memories of the last time they did that are also quite firmly ingrained, although no one is bursting to make mention of that particular evening. With such a spectacular evening in store for us, I decided that it was time to con Wigga into coming along. Halfway to Loughton station I reveal to him the fact that he's been duped: "Oh no!"

We board the coach only to find that we're first, no sign of anyone else at all. Great! We get the back seats!! Eventually everyone is aboard and the coach departs half an hour later than advertised. Our trip is largely uneventful, but there are slightly more people on the coach than previously. Well, okay… maybe not.

At the entrance to the main arena (what???) is still closed, we opt to spend half an hour or so in the other bar.

Shortly we notice that the other bar is open and we all troop 'round the other side. Suddenly it all gets interesting as five guys with long greasy hair, pullovers and jeans round the corner and start overturning the picnic tables in the Robey's courtyard.

"C'mon everyone, get inside," says the guy on the door and we all race in without paying the required entrance fee - the last thing I see before the door sweeps shut is a flying wine bottle coming straight for me. Coo. So, everyone's safely inside. Except, it seems, for Wigga. Where can he be?

Alastair is able to shed some light on this: "The last time I spoke to him he asked me where the nearest tube station is!"

This provokes much mirth among the assembled and we all debate his reasons for leaving. (He later claims that he was feeling out of place because "I wasn't wearing black and my hair wasn't out here…" - whereupon he gestures with his hands in the manner of a Red Indian Chief describing his new headdress.)

The performance. The open with "Euroshit" to mass movement on the floor with everyone chanting variously: "Andy, Andy!", "Newboid, Newboid!", "Charlie, Charlie!", "Euroshit, Euroshit!"

As it ends, Andy makes his entrance amid screaming and shouting, with J.D. bottle in his hand, a Stars and Stripes draped around his neck and the band begin "King Of California".

It ends with "We'll Bring The House Down" and Andy follows the rest of the crowd in a (rather poor) stagedive (more of a stagejump, in fact).

Tonight may have been quite close to their best yet.