Do you know what a good daughter I am? Last night I sacrificed a Friday night which could have been spent drinking with my mates (or, more likely, sat on the internet) so I could take my mum to see Olly Murs at the Manchester Arena. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it, and that someone was me - it was only fitting as I got her the tickets for Christmas. No ulterior motive there at all. Nope, totally un-selfish.
Oh, who am I kidding? I love Olly as much as the next red-blooded female. I love that he seems to be the nicest guy in pop music and you could happily go to the pub for a pint with him, and that he's genuinely talented and full of boundless energy.
I haven't actually been to a pop gig since 1998 when I last saw Boyzone, and I'd totally forgotten how much effort is put into the performance. Olly played for two hours, there was a full live band, fantastic light shows and fireworks, a walkway lowered down into the crowd, a ten-minute mod cover session, plenty of snake-hipped action; and naturally it was top pop hit after top pop hit.
Although I do love seeing small bands in dingy venues complete with a flat pint, I won't discount pop gigs anymore. It was well worth it for the awesome performance, plus hearing my mum scream when Olly ripped his shirt open at the very end. Not sure my left ear forgives me for that particular moment, mind..!