My hair is pink. Very very pink. It makes me happy. Almost as happy as seeing Keith Caputo playing at Barfly in Glasgow the other day made me.

It was fucking awesome. In fact, the word awesome was invented just to describe this gig. The venue was small and the gig was intimate, for want of a better word. How often do you get to see someone performing who you really admire and the whole thing is on such a small scale that you can sit on the stage to watch and the band can make eye contact with the audience? Getting a real genuine smile fired directly at you by someone playing one of your favourite songs in the world is a kick-ass feeling.

Keith hung around afterwards to talk to people and my friend Lisa and I got to have a proper chat for ages about tattoos, eye make-up, Amsterdam and other stuff, severely pissing off the man-groupies with cameras and things they wanted signed. Don’t ever be fooled into believing that the worst groupie behaviour comes from screaming girls. It doesn’t. It comes from male rock fans. They are truly scary.

But hey, Keith Caputo likes my eyebrow tattoo (“Wow…your tattoo! You have little stars on your face…that is so cool“) so the rest of the world can go and fuck. Rock!