My Friday afternoon.

Picture the scene. Lights out, head phones on, 175 watts of power straight into your brain, the way it should be, two speakers mixing the sound in the middle. None of this namby pamby surround sound.

The drums are somewhere behind me, the base player in my left ear, the lead guitar in my right. The full orchestra seems to be just above my left eyebrow, the piano player above my right. The vocals are starting at the back of my head, pulsing right through me and errupting out into the darkened room. In my minds eye I can see Carla De Vito in a slinky white dress coming towards me. She looks so good I am starting to get the sort of stalk on that hasn't been seen since I mistook my Viagra for my coffee sweetners. The microphone is in my hands and I rise to my feet singing.

"For cying out loud, you know I love you"

And thats when I realise that I can hear myself. I have 175 watts plugged direct into my ears and I can hear myself. That is worrying! Firstly my mum has hidden herself under the table, but she will soon come out when she remembers something she hasn't nagged me about today. But it also means that the neighbours, upstairs, downstairs, next door and probably the next two blocks in each direction, have heard me.

They have all had the pleasure of me "singing" along with Meatloaf for the past half hour. And they haven't had the benefit of 175 watts in their ears, two Jamaican woodbines and half a dozen of Carlsbergs finest. Lucky them!