Who? The Wu, that's Who!

Man, I'm mad at myeslf right now.

Last night, I turned 'industry' on myself. Shunning the, what turned out to be, amazing Wu Tang show at the Apollo, I instead swished off to the Arena magazine party. I've seen Wu live a couple of times, and while it's always lovingly shambolic, I didn't think I needed to see them again.

In the words of Julia Roberts and Plan B: Big mistake. Huge.

Talking of Plan B, I did bump into him at the Arena party wearing a...suit! By Armani and shit. Wow. He apparently blagged it for both the party and producer Paul Epworth's marriage today. I admire his style, I really do.

Anyway, while I was marvelling on Bizzle in s swizzle, Method Man had the crowd going nuts over in Hammersmith. Crowdsurfing, back-flippping and literally walking on their hands, he looked, as Sir Ben Harris told me, 'like a young, hungry MC.' By all accounts, the Staten Island spitters (full crew, minus, obviously, ODB) did themselves very, very proud.

I did make the party though (boy, I really was 'industry' last night) and had the pleasure of dancing two foot from Meth as All I Need played. The party was put on by this internet gambling guy, who has made a fortune from the world wide web, and what a party. Oh my daze; early '90s classics, a free bar and a room packed full of people having a great time.Well, apart from one little fight between a girl and some guy. But other than that, it was one of the best parties I've been to this year.

Remember when going out was about getting your dance on, catching up with friends, drinking a lil somethin, somethin and enjoying yourself?

Oh, the good old days....