Guess what? I've got tickets to see diminutive Welsh chanteuse Kylie next April at the O2 (what used to be the Millennium Dome, the object of all right-minded citizens' scorn, contempt, and rage). I am pretending that I am going under duress in order to maximise brownie points but really I am looking forward to it. The seats come with a warning that they are unsuitable for people without a head for heights so I will have to take care not to bop too vigorously and fall on top of others in the 20,000-strong mainly adolescent or gay crowd who my friends tell me make up Kylie's loyal following. Everybody has their own reasons for admiring La Minogue and I know mine (see picture).
