Thursday night. Cafe de Paris in London. It feels like some kind of members' club where I should be sitting on overstuffed furniture, puffing on a fat cigar and pretending to be important. Not the sort of surroundings I've seen a gig in before. But hey, there's a first time for everything.

It's 9.30pm and the first support act's meant to be on. But presumably he's backstage somewere quaffing free beer. We're paying for our (overpriced) bottles ourselves, but at least things are livened up by the appearance of a woman next to us who seems to be wrapped in a snake. A real snake. The flyer promised "improbable pomp" and "strange entertainers". Guess they managed that - and none of the bands have hit the stage yet.

It's a little before 10, and the first of the support acts gets up to do his stuff. I don't know his name, but he has an awful dress sense and appears to be singing about his trainers. I think it might be time to move onto the vodka. Still, at least the chandelier above the main dance floor looks nice.

Next up: the Rumble Strips. This lot are much better. And they have a trumpet, which sends them up in my estimation immensely - it's not all about guitars you know. I can't help thinking the drummer looks a little like Jimmy Saville, but in my defence, it's dark, I'm wearing my contacts and - like the rest of the crowd - I've had a couple of beers.

They've warmed things up a bit, but everyone's here to see one band: The Maccabees.

Taking to the stage to a standing ovation (there aren't any seats), they blast straight into a storming set. As my gig-going companion Phil says: "I didn't think they were the sort of band who'd get us moshing". Wrong, wrong, wrong.

As my smelly, sweat-soaked t-shirt, trodden-on feet and ringing ears testify, they absolutely are the sort of band who get the crowd going. We're right down the front and moving with the music - or at least it feels like it. In reality I might well resemble a confused Peter Crouch, just with shorter limbs.

The band close the performance with Latchmere and Lego (listen to them on MySpace), but the crap security guys get on stage and block our view. Luckily their authority's totally undermined by the band, who wonder if they "might get a hug" from the men in black. In fact, the Maccabees seem a little bowled over by the reception - it's not as if their performance doesn't deserve it, but it's nice to see a band having fun on stage.

Back to the bar for a quick drink, then the fun of locating a night bus home. The DJs aren't really doing it for me, and I want to go and visit Latchmere Leisure Centre (just down the road from where my bed for the night is located) in the morning.

Strange surroundings, but the Maccabees made this a cracking night. Any band that makes a dull south London swimming pool into a catchy song is ok by me. It's got a wave machine you know.