KLAXONS WIN THE FUGGIN AWARD! GOOD TIMES!

We’re all as proud as ketamine-laced punch that the Klaxons lads trumped Winehouse to the Mercury Music Award last night.

James Klaxons pips NME's Jamie to the award

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Although you should see the state of New Music Editor Alex Miller, who ended up taking them on GMTV first thing this morning after an all night celebratory bender. He’s still coming up.

Anyway, although I didn’t quite last all night, here’s my backstage diary of last night’s bash. FUCKNIG KLAXONS, YES!

14:08
Arrive at the Grosvenor House Hotel in West London. Red carpets are being rolled out and lots of people with earpieces are milling about. Tahita and Andy from New Young Pony Club walk through the reception in their civvies. She’s still got great hair, mind.

15:06
Jools Holland bowls into the lobby of the Great Hall – where the ceremony will be held. He’s wearing some vile red and black shoes that even most Hoxton types would relegate to the recycling bin. Greasy hair, too.

15:36
I head into the Great Hall, where the bands are taking in turns to soundcheck, and Jools is running through his lines. He fluffs quite a few of them. It’s surreal seeing the bands play to an almost empty but lavish room. Still, The Young Knives have played to smaller audiences. No sign of Winehouse.

NYPC soundcheck

...As does Mr. Jamie T

15:47
Spot Jamie T and his band mooching around in a hotel corridor. He’s yawning and saying, “I’m sooooo tired”, after soundchecking while still wearing his backpack. It’s a good look. At least better than Jools’.

17:00
Jamie T is the first artist to “arrive”. I say arrive, but in reality they all leave the hotel round the back, then get driven round to the front entrance in front of the press and pretend they’ve just got there. One of Jamie T’s band-mates drops his trousers. No-one notices.

17:06
James Chapman, aka Maps arrives looking like your stoned older cousin. No-one knows his real name, so the photographers shout “Maps! Hi Maps, look here Maps!” over and over. He looks about as comfortable as a pair of barbed wire trousers.

17:30
Klaxons are here! They look like this:

18:10
Adrian Edmonson arrives. He used to be in Bottom and isn’t as famous as Rik Mayall, but he’s well into music. You can tell, because he's wearing Converse with a suit in a Kaiser Chiefs (or Dr. Who) fashion. Good man.

18:35
Everyone aside from the bands mingle on the Great Hall balcony necking champagne. The Young Knives are pissed. They’re the only band here – the others are in the Green Room, where lowly journalists aren’t allowed. The Young Knives haven’t realised this yet.

19:05
The View kick off musical proceedings, after everyone’s sat down, with a run-through of ‘Superstar Tradesman’. No sign of Winehouse, although a sound man told me earlier that she sound-checked and is in the hotel. All the bands play a song each, unenthusiastically. People talk through most of the performances. Liking Jamie T’s sped-up ‘Salvador’, mind.

19:56
She’s here! The one they call Wino emerges from backstage and performs ‘Love Is A Losing Game’ with just an acoustic guitar for backing. Everyone gushes, suppressing the urge to go, “Awwwww”. She sounds pretty good, still looks like a planed rake, mind. Blake is hanging around, wearing a white vest and trilby. In a five star hotel! He’s such a fucking rebel. Or, he’s the indie Jack Tweedy. Winehouse gives him a smooch and sits on a table next to her dad.

20:30
All the bands tuck into their dinner (here’s the menu I nicked). I’m not allowed down so have to mooch around the balcony, which doesn’t have any booze but does have a nice selection of sarnies.

21:23
See some kind of scuffle on The View’s table. Kyle had hurled a glass at someone opposite him, and was ticked off by a security guard.

21:40
Meals polished off, the bands are mingling, now. Klaxons come upstairs for a chat. James says he really, really wants to win the prize. Kyle from The View interrupts us with a tirade of indecipherable babble (OK, no change there, but this was really indecipherable babble). James makes “what is he on” eyes at me but humours him anyway. Kyle says something about being kicked out of a KFC for demanding a beef burger earlier on.

22:00
The winners! Klaxons go ballistic. A crutch goes skyward. Photographers, previously trained on Amy necking with Blake on her table, swing round on the new rave heroes. Amy storms off instantly. The most ‘lively’ speech ever is made. James gurns like mental.

22:20
Klaxons destroy the photoshoot set backstage in a blur of euphoria. They may have taken drink and sweets.

23:30
A huge gold-clad figure launches himself on top of me, Editor Conor and New Music Editor Alex as we sip beers on the Great Hall floor, which is now a scene of beer bottle carnage. It’s James Righton, and he’s happy. Producer James Ford arrives. Much celebration. Jamie starts mock-fellating his crutch.

Producer James Ford and James Klaxons gets in on the fun

23:45
We all go to the Klaxons’ hotel room. Lovefoxxx has showed up and is getting nice and pashy with Simon.

00:00
Dizzee Rascal joins the room. He’s a proper gent, introducing himself to everyone and shaking hands. Then fucking off after ten minutes.

00:30
Stellas and cocktails in the hotel bar. Simon Jordan, Crystal Palace owner and former squeeze of fading “It” girl Sophie Anderton is sat at the bar wondering what’s going on.

01:03
New Young Pony Club bowl into the bar and start attacking cocktails.

01:20
The Horrors are here too now.

02:00
And now here’s Peaches Geldof and her “DJ” mate Fifi. The party heads back to the room as the bar lights come on. A weak-minded NME journalist gets a cab home ‘cos he knows he’s got to be up in the morning to write a blog. No kebab shops on Holloway Road left open. Damn.

So, do you reckon Klaxons are deserving winners? Or should Basquiat Strings have taken home the gong? Leave your comments below.