All I wanted was to look like Elizabeth Taylor

November has been big - we watched Psychic TV play live, drank a lot of craft, went to Brighton to the Mutations Festival and drank a lot of craft. Here are some bits... 

Craft beer is everywhere. We were there first

Tapas in London in November

Big guns

Terrible rules

Dive in

A very unhealthy meal

Alfresco WC

Best TV moment of 2015 - watching Murs fuck it up

Pintz

#stopbeingacunt

Nob rot

Butterflies in the pop up Museum of Food

Pre-Psychic TV Wetherspoon's din dins

Josh T Pearson giving it some in Brighton @Mutations Festival

Freaky fingers

Chicken cam

Mike Skinner is my hero

You might have noticed the ongoing trend for bands reforming is currently reaching ever greater and deeper lows.

As we gaze fondly towards the new hopes of 2016, it's now very much the fashion for older, not hugely successful Britpop outfits to dust down their guitars, polish those stage pants and start preparing to get back out there for one last musical hurrah. You can kind of just about stomach this self-perpetuating taste for nostalgia when it's the likes of Fleetwood Mac ironing out their differences and returning to the stage. But over recent months, bands like Space, Cast, Kula Shaker, Garbage, even Marion have either played or announced new gigs. It's like they've just cynically realised they've got more chance of paying the mortgage off by being mates and playing together than being adversaries. Which in some ways, gives cause for despair. Many of these bastards were totally shite to start off so it's hard to imagine now they're 20 years older, grey of hair and pot bellied that they'll be any more cop.

With all this aural shite flinging going on, it's ace to see someone like Mike Skinner being willing to throw caution to the wind, dump his past and live properly in the here and now. Not least because he could quite easily be one of those currently cashing his chips in. Over the course of numerous albums, he earned the tag of genius via a bedroom soul sound hybrid blending garage, house, hip hop and grime that got him in the cooler ends of the music press and also, refreshingly, in the higher end of the charts. 

Now, after some time away, he's dipping a toe into the biz again, this time with his label and party Tonga. Handily, it goes on just round the corner from ours and we went for our first trip just the t'other month. Refreshingly, our second jaunt was just a sweaty and as stupid as the last one we attended. All hail Skinner and all hail those willing to leave their pasts behind and keep it totally future... 

It's a rave dave

Pre-Tonga Saturday night power juice

Lost in the rave clouds

Arresting Murphy

Many a time the phrase, 'don't met your heroes' has been uttered by folk both stupid and wise. 'It'll only lead to disappointment' is the consensus offered up by the vibe police but sometimes fate throws them at you and it'd be downright rude to not interact.

So it goes in me current journo job where interviews with interesting and not so interesting folk are always popping up. As an interrogator, sometimes your heroes let you down, but on other occasions those you didn't give much thought to offer you enough wisdom to attain hero status. It's certainly a case of swings and roundabouts but with Roisin Murphy it was a no brainer about chatting. And lo, although we only met via the phone, it proved to be a suitably weird 30 minutes veering from cock jokes to high art. 

Click here to read the whole interview.