So, after a month keeping my head down, I finally cracked and read the reviews. All of them. In one go. Eventually, it was The Guardian that did for me. They sent me an e-mail asking me to write something for them and I thought 'not if you've slagged me off again'. After that, I was like a recovering crack addict who'd promised himself one last rock - I gorged myself to a solipsistic stupor. The reviews are good, thank God. Still, I'd rather not be a crack addict.

A couple of weeks ago, I watched Grace Jones command the main stage at Latitude. She knocked my socks off. I reckons she knows a thing or two about solipsism and maybe there's a lesson to be learned. But I can't imagine a crowd of 10,000 cheering at the sight of my bum.