Kim Wilde, Brighton Dome
Down by the sea last week, taking the air in a bracing walk past Brighton's quaint Dome theatre, what should I see but posters proclaiming an evening's entertainment featuring your own sweet self.
Being your number one fan, this was, naturally, an opportunity I couldn't miss - and I was amply rewarded. It was brilliant!
The hall may not have been full but I just know everyone there was with you 100 per cent. Didn't we cheer, lungs fit to burst when you made that dramatic entrance! Jiggling excitedly in our seats to the rombustious music we just knew it was going to be terrific. Some rather rude fellows questioned your decision to wear such restrictive trousers, and crowed quite alarmingly when your removed your jacket, but we shouted them down as your group struck up the introduction to the first of many wonderful hits.
I must admit it was a little tedious having to sit through all those songs from your LPs but we clapped politely knowing it wouldn't be long before you treated us to the rest of those chart toppers.
But I do think you could have done better for yourself in the musician department - they all seemed to have turned their instruments up awfully loud, as if they were trying to ape one of those unpleasant 'heavy metal' groups.
And as for looks... well, they were hardly a handsome bunch, but just as we were having a good snigger at the one with the leather jacket and no hair, you introduced him as your brother!
Anyway, that doesn't matter because it was still really Fab! Even if you didn't look all that comfortable, and failed to project beyond the footlights, that was not important because us fans knew the massive talent we were witnessing.
But you really must try to relax, Kim. You only seemed to enjoy yourself when you did that old Four Pennies song "When the boy's happy". Mind you, I suppose it's to keep your pop star mystique. Quite right too.
An utterly fabulous evening. Who'd have guessed one person could bring quite so much joy to so many otherwise empty lives - thanks Kim.
Yours, your number one fan,
by Graham K Smith