There’s something about Katy Perry. No, it’s not because of the ‘kissed a girl’ bit. Or because of the Hersey’s Kisses Rolling Stone cover. Or because I think Russell Brand is one lucky sod.

I missed her show in Sheffield earlier in the spring so it was great to hear that she was coming back this autumn. Same tour to boot, too. As luck would have it I was nursing a poorly left ankle from the weekend’s foray that was a total of 7-ish km after two months of complete and utter inactivity. Nevertheless, I soldiered on. Even came as late as I could to prevent being on my feet too long (which was great as the parking attendants had all gone home and I saved a fiver – bonus!), only to find, much to my surprise, that her show actually lasted more than two hours. Very the Metallica, Cik Perry!

I wasn’t sure who her support act was but there was this DJ Skeet Skeet fella spinning some discs onstage. Kinda weird to see one guy moving his arms in the air behind his little setup but the crowd was lapping it up. The crowd’s demographic was mainly mid-twenty women and, err… a couple of stubbled beer-bellied blokes in blue Katy Perry wigs. The stage was all candy bars, sticks of rock and cotton candy clouds. Tacky sugary pop pastiche? I was wondering if she had gone in this direction (well, she is, kinda) but until she got onstage kicking of her set with Teenage Dream that I realised how wrong I was.

Firstly, this woman can sing lah (eh, Señor Grasshopper, what lah you). Not a note out of place.

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