It is not possible to begin this post without referring to the recent atrocities in Paris. All I can do is offer my hopes and prayers that things can be put right again. There is nothing to say that has not already been said.
A couple of nights ago I did a show for a 30th birthday. As per usual I gave the first hour and a half over to the little kiddies that were there by giving them all the One Direction, Little Mix and Olly Murs that they could taste. Under tens always make for a good party! All was good for me until I put on I Don't Care by Cheryl Cole (or whatever she happens to be called now - Cheryl Fernandes Boutros-Boutros-Boutros-Boutros?). Trouble is, I went and put on the standard version with the big F-word in each chorus. A jolt ran through me and I threw my arms up like a Czech! Straight away I brought in the next song, still feeling like a proper milk bottle - even though no one really appeared to notice.
You have got to be SO CAREFUL what you say around children, as who knows just what they will pick up...
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