Please Note:

The artist has requested that only vegetarian food should be consumed inside the concert hall. Therefore, no food purchased outwith the concert hall will be allowed into the hall.

We were in Glasgow for the Morrissey gig. Who else would get away with such a ridiculous request? Gareth was already a vegetarian, but when I got patted down by security I was forced to surrender a string of sausages, a schnitzel and lamb leg that I'd been saving for snacks. Bastard.

I do like the old Smiths stuff but admittedly I am no Morrissey afficinado. I was mainly there to see PJ Harvey in her supporting role. Despite the dodgy sound in the massive hangar that is the SECC, she was still the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. She has that effect on everyone. The men screamed, PJ have mah babies! and the women screamed, PJ have mah boyfriend's babies!

Between support acts there were two drunk chicks in front of us, one big blonde with blurred red lipstick and one petite with an Amelie haircut. They had only just met and were determined to sing/scream their way through The Smiths entire back catalogue. Between each rendition they'd hug and squeal.

"Oh mah gawd, I never met anyone before who loves Morrissey as much as me!"

"Totally! You are sooo going to come to my party and we are going to BOND! Take me ouuuut tonight..."

A girl in the front row span around and hissed, "We'd prefer to wait and let Morrissey to do the singing, if you don't mind."

"I DO mind!" bellowed Blondie. She turned to another friend who was dressed like he was late for a Franz Ferdinand audition. "That bitch told me to shut up. She's a fockin COW! I never never want to go HOOOME!"

So, Morrissey fans are interesting. There were dozens of men in the crowd who'd clearly gone to considerable effort to cultivate the famous towering quiff and sideburns combo. That's dedication. I mean, I really truly love Radiohead, but you don't see me sticking a pencil in my eye or anything.

Things went truly insane when the Big M finally appeared on stage beneath a galaxy of lightbulbs that spelled out his name. Dressed in priests garb, he kicked off with How Soon Is Now, aka The Theme from 'Charmed'. The ensuing mad push and frenzy of limbs made the T in the Park crush look like a piano recital. By the end of the song Gareth had been elbowed in the eyeball, Amelie's unconscious form had been hauled over the barrier, and my ribs were threatening to snap off my sternum, so violent was the concertina crush of bodies. COOL!

Morrissey was good fun, still suave and entertaining after all these years and not straying into Fat Vegas Elvis territory. His voice was great and there was enough classics to amuse amateurs like me. The dedicated fans maintained their frenzy levels all night, making it near impossible to take photos. The only remotely steady shot I got was when some stranger had their thigh wedged between my legs, forming a human tripod of sorts.

It was only when it was all over and the crowd disentangled that I realised my t-shirt and jeans were dripping wet. I know from my thrashing about at the gym that while I go red-faced, I am not a wet sweater. So on the bus back to Edinburgh all I could do was sit and stew in the sweat of a thousand strangers. In case you were curious, it smelled like wet dogs.

More PJ and Morrissey photos over here...