Duran Duran : London Kentish Town Forum

Bet your mum had a bitch of a hangover, eh?

The bloke working for the band tells me this: the gig sold out in four minutes flat and he’s been offered so many sexual favours for tickets that his sole regret is, this being a short-notice show, he really wouldn’t have the time, let alone the stamina, to cash in on the whole tix for fux scenario.

Well, that’s one mystery solved. At least you know who your mum was on the phone to all last week.

Duran Duran’s return to a UK stage after 18 years has kicked off sheer hormonal pandemonium. But hey, if dads can get all swoony over rumours of a Jam reunion, then mums can sure as hell’s belles get screamy over the reformed Duran. We’ve got Dadrock and Teenpop, so what price Riotmum? About £150 quid a ticket if tonight’s touts are talking kosher.

For those of you born in the ’80s and intrigued by this kerfuffle, all you need to know is this: Duran Duran were the original Strokes. They had their Julian in Simon Lebon – a cherubic singer prone to the podge. They had their Fab in John Taylor, the chiselled hunk who still elicits most of the screams. They had their own Nick in Nick Rhodes – snooty, pretentious and sometimes a twat. They had their Albert in Andy Taylor – a bit of rough washed up from another band entirely. And they had their Nikolai in Roger Taylor, the dull one who left in the ’80s and went a bit Frank Bruno.

And for those of you who were original Durannies, know this: they are reassuringly the same old DD. From their entrance, lined up along the front of the stage milking the adulation through to their dogged refusal to drop their cover of ‘White Lines’ – imagine the cast of Fame Academy doing ‘Slim Shady’; uh huh! – they are eternally unbowed in their arrogance.

Bless them! We shed a communal tear to lost youth during ‘Save A Prayer’ – the ’80s ‘Wonderwall’ – squealed along to ‘Girls On Film’ , ‘Planet Earth’ and ‘Rio’, politely put up with the newie – ‘What Happens Tomorrow’, nodded sagely to ‘Ordinary World’ – the band’s superb autobiography in song – and made strange robotic gestures to ‘Wild Boys’ – which sounds like an epileptic outbreak in a woodwork class. In other words, fucking excellent fun.

Bet your mum had a bitch of a hangover, eh?

Steve Sutherland