I would say that he played all his hits, but he never had any. I'd also like to say that he hasn't changed a bit since his glory days. Unfortunately, this isn't the case, as he's clearly not been following the Atkins diet in the intervening years since he last played. However dear reader, you and I are the beneficiaries of this, as we get more Moped for our money. Moped is, well, Moped. He's essentially the same train wreck he was all those years ago. That's really the point though.

Moped is a true original. He was never destined to be rich or famous, but he's the real deal. The spirit of 1977 is still right there with him, and it's good to see him alive and playing again. Even if he still does have to be kidnapped still to get him up there on time. If you get the chance, go see him, though you may have a better chance of seeing him at the Asda that he reputedly works at than at any gig he's supposed to be playing.

While he's on, I have a nice wander up to The Damned's dressing room, as they are sure to have some nice swag up there. They do indeed, and I meet Monty their keyboard player for a little chat. A thoroughly nice chap he is too, a great addition to The Damned, and not a bit put off by having some guy from a minor league punk band he'd clearly never heard of, drone on about Strawberries and their new album. As he was so good about it, I'll tell you too. The Damned's new album, "Who's Paranoid" is the best thing they have done since Strawberries. There, I've said it. Now go out and buy it. Now. It's OK, I'll wait here.

So The Damned are on. There's not a lot I can say about them really, except this. They are one of the few acts from the original wave that are better now than they ever were, and they were always excellent to start with. It's true that only Sensible and Vanian remain from the original Damned, but to be honest, you never really needed any of the others. Pinch is more than a replacement for the long departed Scabies, and it has to be said, a drummer better suited to the new directions that they are going in.

Monty of course adds the keyboards that allow them to really dig into parts of their catalog that haven't seen the light of day in decades, and adds a delightfully deranged visual aspect that gives the Captain a run for his money. Stu West, erstwhile bass player for the English Dogs rounds out the band on bass. It should be me of course, but then I think this about every band I see, and if I bother them any more, I fully expect a restraining order to be issued forthwith.

They don't rest on the old material though. There's a lot of the new album in there too, and it holds up with the rest of the classic Damned material. There's not much I can add, except to tell you to go see them at every available opportunity.

And that is it. The Damned leave the stage and continue on their tour, and the rest of us file out into the night, which just to cheer us up, is having a nice rain. It's a particular trick that England does really well. The temperature can be well below freezing, but rain can still form. In a sensible country, that rain would freeze and we could all have fun with the snow, but not here. There's something rather sad about seeing all the Mohawks go flat as the old punks make their way off into the gloom.

Talking of old punks, I do what all rock and roll animals do after this sort of thing. I go back to the flat I'm staying in and have a nice cup of tea and play Guitar Hero until the small hours. I wipe down my trusty black Rickenbacker 4001, and put it back in the flight case for the trip back home. Along with it goes the ghost of Brian Helicopter. It was fun dragging him out of retirement for a couple of weeks.

It's a little sad really, as I don't know if he'll ever be seen again in the context of The Shapes. Let's not get too maudlin though, as with a Japanese release of The Shapes's album planned for March 2009, there's always the chance that we could go there. Also, if Rebellion aren't deluged with complaints about us, we may even play there again. It would be nice.

So it's time to go home to the USA again, and to experience the deep joy of transatlantic travel. Perhaps there will be a good movie on to pass the time. Oh good, it's Mamma Mia. Of course I get pulled over at customs again because I'm lugging a flight case, but I'm too tired to complain, and when they realize that I'm not even remotely famous, and couldn't possibly afford any decent quantity of drugs, they eventually let me go. In a nice nod to my English adventure, it's fucking freezing here, and about to rain. Hurrah.

So The Shapes have, against all reason, reunited, played, and returned to whence they came. It was totally unexpected, a lot of fun, and who knows if it will ever happen again. As of now, there's no real plans to reform again unless we're asked, so I guess the answer as to whether we will ever do this again rests with you dear reader. If anyone has a burning desire to see The Shapes, it's clearly not beyond the realms of possibility that we would do this again. It's not really even that expensive, because apparently we'll play for soup. It does have to be nice soup though. None of your old tinned crap.