The Enemy at the Gates

I have just spent a fantastic evening watching The Enemy at the Liquid Rooms, even though most of the audience were born after the fall of the Berlin Wall and I looked like someone's dad. In fact, the lead singer looked about 12 and the bass player looked like a Jamie Hewlett cartoon. Anyway, halfway through I couldn't resist the temptation of the moshpit and spent the remainder of the gig jumping up and down, pushed this way and that, ending up sweaty, bruised and battered. I drew the line at crowd surfing, though I did help a couple of people into the air, including an 18-year old lassie in a short skirt who asked me and another bloke to grab her by the legs and lift her up. At least, I hope she was 18.