Oooh look, it's The Specials!


If you're not familiar with their work, you're probably young like me. Or old like my parents. But if you're middle-aged like Lisa, you'll be very excited by that photo.

Lisa's been a big fan of Terry Hall (he's the third bloke from the left) since 1981, and she gave me a copy of his greatest hits album for my birthday five years ago. Before taking it back six months later when she realised I didn't like it. But despite my lack of enthusiasm for the man's work, I'm always happy to accompany my fiancée to a live concert. Especially when she pays for the tickets. Admittedly, the money came out of Amelie's child benefit, but the girl's away for a couple of days, so she's costing us nothing.

To be honest, I didn't think The Specials would be much cop, but as it turned out, they gave an arresting performance last night. None of their songs lasted more than three minutes, so every time I started thinking "I've had enough of this one now", it finished. Which was great. On the downside, I felt that every song sounded the same, and they would have benefited from putting a slow ballad in there somewhere just to clear the palate and give the drummer a rest.

But I was clearly alone in that view. The entire Brighton Centre (apart from me and Lisa) spent the full ninety minutes jogging on the spot in porkpie hats, and throwing plastic glasses of beer at each other. It was actually very entertaining. The Specials also seemed to have a remarkable amount of energy for a group of men in their fifties. All that clean living has clearly paid off.

Ultimately I enjoyed the concert a lot more than I thought I would. My only disappointment was that the ten pounds I offered Lisa to stand up, point at the stage, and shout "RUDE BOYS!" in her loudest voice, went unclaimed. She's no fun any more. Frankly I'd have done it for a fiver.