Magic mushrooms, strippers, handcuffs, spanking, stealing Slipknot’s masks. This can only be Muse in Tokyo…

The view from the top floors of the Tokyo ANA hotel is impressive. beneath us tokyo sprawls in a dazzling sea of light, flickering neon illuminating a warren of densely populated streets and alleyways. the vista is dominated by the orange glow thrown of the 333-metre high tokyo tower. On one level, the tokyo tower is simply a giant monolith fashioned in the image of the eiffel tower. on a more metaphorical level it’s an iconic symbol of japanese resilience and character, erected in 1958 as a sign that a nation brought to its knees in WWII was back on its feet and aiming for the stars. Some 13 metres taller than its parisian counterpart, the tower was famously snapped in two by Godzilla on his first trip to the metropolis. Matt Bellamy, the hotle guest in room 2709, has been in tokyo before but he can empathise with the famous monster’s over-excitement.

“I love this intense, chaotic peak of human evolution,” Matt says passionately, as he peers out across the world’s most vibrant city. “I love intense colours and intense industrial life, and tokyo to me is city life at its most developed and complex. to enjoy city life is to truly enjoy being part of the human race.” Bellamy turns from the window, and tugs absent-mindedly at the shock of red hair framing his chiselled features as he slumps into a chair beside his bed. “Running away and hiding in a big house in the countryside is denying what you are, denying that you are human,” he says with a smile. “In saying that, I’ll probably be doing that in 20 years. But right now this is our time to live life.”

In 2001 if you have a zest for life,, a hunger for experience and a well-upholstered bank account, then there’s probably no better place to be than tokyo. Right now the city is glowing with confidence and vitality, enjoying the sort of cultural renaissance in music, fashion and art which saw the UK dubbed ‘Cool Brittania’ in the wake of Britpop, ‘The Full Monty’ and labours landslide general election victory in 1997. Sure, the ‘Asahi News’ business pages will tell you that the Nikkei financial index is hovering perilously close to an all-time low and unemployment, bankruptcy and suicide statistics are at an all time high. But on Tokyo’s streets the energy is both exhilarating and dizzying.

It’s fitting, then, that we should be in japan’s capitol with a band who are similarly buzzing. The UK music industry has long taken it for granted that British bands will be ‘Big in Japan’. But the truth behind this patronising attitude is that, in a country with twice the population of the UK, the ability to sell-out two or three 3000-capacity clubs nationwide (a feat most major British bands would be delighted to achieve) hardly equates to Beatlemania. Foreign acts account for just five per cent of total album sales in Japan, and household names in the Western world are hard-pushed to break into the Japanese top 10.

Muse haven’t ‘cracked’ Japan yet, but they’re set to become Britain’s most successful musical export in years here. The Devon trio’s new album Origin Of Symmetry may have peaked at Number 19 on the national charts, but it debuted at Number one on the country’s international chart and has already matched sales of their debut album ‘Showbiz’ in just two weeks. These are very encouraging signs. “The success of the album has taken me by surprise to be honest,” Matt Bellamy admits. “I was pretty aware that this album was difficult to swallow compared to ‘Showbiz’ and I thought we were taking a bit of a risk. But what’s big in England is most derogatory, simple bollocks and we couldn’t settle for that”

For Bellamy and his bandmates Chris Wolstenholme and Dom Howard, Tokyo is the final stop on a week-long Japanese promotional tour. Muse were originally invited out here by their record company to play low-key acoustic gigs in front of invited audiences. But somewhere along the line this plan was altered in favour of the trio playing three ‘proper’ gigs for competition winners and the die-hard fans who snapped up the initial copies of Origin of Symmetry. Earlier this week, the band played shows at the 300-capacity Quattro clubs in Osaka and Nagoya and on the day we arrive in Japan they’re set to play for three-thousand fans at the Zepp club. We meet up with the band backstage at the Zepp; a rather nondescript building in the shadow of a huge ferris wheel which forms part of a multi-functional amusement park named Palette Town on the edge of Tokyo Bay. Under the unwavering gaze of an early ‘70s Mick Jagger poster, the trio are lounging around a sparsely-decorated dressing room. Six or seven unopened cartons of Chinese food sit on a table in the centre of the room, where tour manager Andy taps methodically on his laptop. With the remainder of the crew readying the band’s equipment onstage, the only other person is the band’s mate Tom, who is uploading video footage of the previous days activities onto a laptop for a future transmission on the Muse TV website. We’ve arrived as Muse are about to begin a TV interview for three channels - Japanese MTV, Channel A and The Music 272. In the adjacent dressing room - identically furnished save for an old Led Zeppelin poster on the wall - Muse’s Japanese translator, their record company’s TV plugger and a three-man TV crew wait patiently.

This being the band’s fifth day of promo interviews they’re familiar with the drill by now. Their translator will ask them a question in English, listen patiently to their answers while jotting down the occasional note and then repeat the answer in Japanese. At least, that’s the theory: on occasions the translator has admitted that he’s been ‘creative’ with his translations. Today when Bellamy is asked how he got a certain sound on new track ‘Space Dementia’ - because hey, these things are important to Japanese Muse fans - he reveals that he “put a piano through a Big Muff”. He then insists that his translator repeat his answer fully when the ‘official’ translation seemingly omits name-checking the vintage guitar FX pedal. I’d wager good money that Matt’s reference to the huge balloons Muse use in their stage show as “massive Johnnies” will not survive intact on Japanese TV either.

Some questions are relatively straightforward (ie “Please explain the concept behind your new video, ‘Bliss’ “), while others probe a little deeper (“How would you explain the aspects of originality on your music?”). The band take it all in their stride with good grace, despite the fact that with the air-conditioning in the room turned off to keep noise to a minimum the room is uncomfortably hot. Matt, Muse’s most vocal member, tends to repeat questions to himself before answering in a flurry of fast-paced, occasionally rambling, words punctuated with sporadic giggling. Throughout, he amuses himself by surreptitiously making hand signals behind Dom’s head. After half-an-hour the (literal) grilling is complete. As Chris lopes off to change his perspiration-soaked shirt Matt steps into the air-conditioned corridor for a breather.

“Interviewers here study every interview you’ve ever done in every country and they’ll pick up on the most throwaway comments and ask you questions about them,” he notes as the crew pack their cameras away. “My favourite questions here have been ‘Why did your parents split up?’ and ‘Are you trying to start a new religion?’.” “People here seem to want to believe that we’re very spiritual and in touch with God. One girl came up to me in an interview and said ‘Matthew, I’d like to have another conversation with you about your thoughts on space and mathematics. I want to understand’. I think she thinks that I’m some sort of Einstein genius when I don’t know what I’m talking about half of the time.”

“Japan is full of surprises,” he continues with a laugh. “We did some TV shows earlier in the week and we had to answer questions from fans which had been pre-recorded on video. One girl came on the screen to say that because of my lyrics I must be good with women. Then she popped up from behind the sofa, sat beside me and started asking about my abilities as a lover to my face. “I didn’t know what to say,” the singer adds, in a tone which blends a knowing smirk with feigned outrage. To ensure that surprises are kept to a minimum during tonight’s show, the end of promotional duties means the start of Muse’s soundcheck. Which means that we get an opportunity to check out the venue. The Zepp looks pretty much identical to similar-sized places across the world, being uniformly painted black, but there are crush barriers every few feet to ensure crowd safety. The floor of the venue is covered with 16 huge balloons, which resemble the terrifying omnipresent spheres from ‘60s cult TV show ‘The Prisoner’ but actually serve a much less sinister purpose in Muse’s stage show. Save for a few petals wrapped around Bellamy’s mike-stand, the stage is minimally decorated with just one guitar amp and one bass amp. Matt reveals that the local crew had set up a wall of Marshall amps for him to use, an offer the singer declined because “it looked a bit Status Quo”.

Matt toys around with some Baroque keyboard scales while waiting for Dom and Chris. Then the band quickly run through a guitar-less version of ‘Bliss’, ‘Plug in Baby’ and an extended jam of ‘Citizen Erased’. Satisfied with the clear, punchy sound, the vocalist and bassist head back to the hotel while Dom Howard settles for having a quick sleep in the dressing room. We leave him to it.

We return to the club just before six o’clock when the band are due to take the stage. Zepp is packed out with a young audience clutching Muse CD’s and posters, plus fluorescent pink Muse watches which double-up as their ticket for the show. Madonna’s ‘Music’ album is pumping out of the sound system as Muse’s road crew ready the stage, and there’s a genuine sense of excitement in the air, even if the noise levels never rise above a dull hum. Not a single person in the venue is drinking alcohol: then again at 800 Yen (around £5) for a bottle of beer this is not entirely surprising. At 6:05 the intro tape stops and Muse walk onstage to open their show with Micro Cuts. The air is immediately filled with screams of excitement as half the audience run towards the stage, rendering those strategically placed crash barriers obsolete. A huge cheer erupts when Bellamy steps out form behind his keyboard to fire up the main riff to ‘New Born’, and from the off you can see how psyched Muse’s frontman is as he throws himself around tearing outrageous solos from his guitar. An awed hush falls upon the room for the fragile, understated ‘Unintended’, but as ‘Plug in Baby’ and ‘Muscle Museum’ lead us into the home stretch, Bellamy’s announcement “I’m happy to be here and we’re coming back for a tour in November” gets the night’s biggest cheer.

As the set climaxes with the band’s new single ‘Bliss’, the giant balloons are dropped from the balcony at the sides of the venue and the whole place goes mad as Matt punctures the balloons with his guitar, showering rice paper confetti upon the crowd. Chris stage-dives into the crowd. matt and Dom make some extravagant bows and by the time the feedback dies away the crowd are already queuing politely for the exit. It is just 7:30pm. “The first time we played here we were a bit afraid about being too over-the-top onstage,” Matt laughs as he rehydrates with mineral water back in the dressing room. “At one point I made some move with my guitar and the whole crowd seemed to gasp as though shocked. It was like there was canned applause between songs. But every time we come back it’s better. Tonight just kicked off - we had crowd surfing and everything. I think Japanese audiences just need to feel comfortable with you, and then they’re as excited as audiences anywhere.”

We leave the band to cool off. Later there will be a meet-and-greet session, predominantly with attractive female fans, many of whom will tail the band back to our 35th floor hotel bar where we reconvene to plan after-show festivities. After a few swift expensive drinks a decision is made to visit a local dance music club. The band are mobbed once again by fans at the hotel doors, as the remainder of our party - Japanese record company rep Junko, press officer Mel, K! photographer James, the band’s translator, my girlfriend Hiroko (also my translator), Tom, Andy, crew guys Glenn and Paul and I - pile into minibuses to go to a club. This being the final working night of a successful trip, both band and crew are in high spirits - a state of mind assisted my magic mushrooms consumption. The club is packed, loud and fun and there is no shortage of attractive young Japanese women happy to dance with the off-duty gajiin (foreigners - literally ‘outside people’).

“Japanese blokes are very protective of their girls, even if they’re not going out with them,” Matt notes as he sips his beer casually. “Every time Tom and I chatted with a girl the other night, some big guy would come over and put his arm around her and look at us like, ‘Fuck off’. But then girls would come to you and it’s…er, difficult.” That said, it would be wrong not to pretend that this tour has not been without the occasional romantic result. “I met a girl and we couldn’t speak the same language at all, so we had to rely on body language to communicate,” the singer smiles. “I think I communicate better without words. I don’t mean that in a sleazy way, I’m just quite expressive and use my hands a lot when I talk. There’s something satisfying about making that human connection with someone regardless of your backgrounds.”

As the night passes a fine time is had by all, with crew members ‘free-styling’ over the DJ’s beats and Dom and Chris pogo-ing enthusiastically to an electro version of The Beatles’ ‘Hey Jude’. But at 3am Junko tells us we’ve been asked to leave. No-one seems to know why, but like good little gajiin we do as we’re told. Besides, this jet-lag is a bitch.

The following morning as we sit waiting in the hotel lobby for the band, there’s still some confusion as to why last night’s festivities were cut short. That is, until someone suggests that the fact one of the crew had his cock out and was rolling around the floor wrestling a table might have been a contributory factor. When Matt, Dom and Chris appear, with sunglasses firmly in place, we learn that their night ended - much later than ours - with a group ‘bundle’ in the hotel corridors, and Matt ‘spazzing out’ in hysterics on the floor of one of the lifts, to the consternation of other shocked guests. We’ll blame that on the mushrooms shall we? Sustenance is required, but sadly our intentions of going for a Japanese meal are foiled, when we discover that both the Japanese restaurants are closed, and will remain so despite sushi fan Matt confidently settling down at a table. “You’d think they’d put a sign outside,” he mutters, walking out of restaurant number two - past a two-foot high sign saying ‘Closed’ in Japanese.

We settle for a Chinese restaurant, and orders are placed for spicy prawns with noodles (Dom and Chris) and a ‘Curry Set’ (Matt). The last time Kerrang! sat down with Muse was two months ago, when I was dispatched to Copenhagen to do an on-the-road feature. The resulting piece, detailing tha band’s ‘enthusiasm’ for rock ‘n’ roll debauchery, took a lot of people by surprise. The message board on Muse’s official website is still full of heated debate about the band’s attitude to female fans and drugs…with many fans suggesting that their cherubic idols couldn’t possibly have got up to such antics. Before I left for Japan some of my colleagues expressed surprise that the band were willing to talk to me again…and to be honest I had some nagging doubts. Such fears proved to be unfounded. The fact that I’m here in the first place is a pretty clear indication of the truth of the previous feature, and Matt’s first words to me when we meet on this trip are “Nice piece”. When, as our food arrives, I ask Dom whether the revelations in the feature had landed him in any hot water he looks genuinely bemused and utterly concerned. If you knew how many bands in these pages whinge and moan about perceived slights and quotes being ‘taken out of context’ you’d understand how cool it is to meet a band like Muse.

The truth is that, after a full year answering tiresome questions about the state of the ‘indie’ nation, and their debt to Radiohead and Jeff Buckley, Muse are happy to finally be seen as a ‘proper’ rock band…with all the baggage that entails. And now they’re confident to be themselves - three young lads with no-one to answer to and the World at their feet. Let’s face it, the Devon trio are increasingly standing out as the UK’s only genuine contenders for making international waves. In addition to their success in Japan, ‘Origin of Symmetry’ has charted well across Europe and the band’s sense of ambition or heroic self-belief has marked them out as a different class to their peers. “Over here and in Europe people find the biggest British bands quite bland and dull and they respect bands who make more experimental, ‘emotional’ music,” Matt notes. “This album has given me the confidence to push things further.” If the Japanese are sold on Muse, then the feeling is mutual. The band consider this one of their favourite countries to visit.

“The first time we came here it was totally surreal,” says Matt. “Everything is different here. But I really like Japanese culture and Japanese people and I always look forward to coming back.” In common with all visiting bands, Muse have been showered with gifts - including home-made rings, kimonos and foot massagers - on their trip. The trip have also been given more ‘original’ gifts by fans offering presents based on their artistic interpretations of Muse songs and lyrics. In Nagoya they received little lanterns and kaleidoscopes to symbolise ‘Darkshines’, while other fans offered painted cloths adorned with interpretations of the song ‘Feeling Good’. The devotion, generosity and loyalty shown by Japanese music fans to their idols is legendary. One girl who has been to practically every Muse gig in the UK and Japan is there in the band’s hotel lobby every morning when they leave and is still there at night when they return. Someone points out that this means that simply saying “Hello” to the band twice a day is the highlight of her day.

Matt contemplates this for a moment. “Not right, is it?” he says with a smile. “Last time it was worse though because we were checking into hotels with our own names.” The singer is booked into the ANA hotel as Mike Hunt (say it aloud quickly and the juvenile joke will be apparent).

But in Japan fans are respectful - they never cross that line of invading your personal space or hassling you.” Meeting the band has, however, been too much for some fans. “In Osaka two school girls who were the nieces of our record company guy had little presents for us,” Dom explains. “So they walked into the room fine, but when they saw us they just lost it. They were gasping for air and having real trouble.” Within minutes Dom and Chris are similarly gasping, as the prawns and noodles dish they’ve ordered is so spicy it prompts involuntary gasps of “Jesus!” from the duo, who immediately have beads of sweat on their brows like long-lost relatives at a lottery winner’s funeral. Worse still, attempts to soothe burning tongues with the milky caramel drinks we’ve ordered are abandoned when we discover the glasses contain black tapioca beans which look suspiciously like rabbit droppings. Tomorrow, Muse will have their first free day since their arrival. Chris plans to spend the day getting his son Alfie’s name tattooed on his arm in Japanese characters. Matt insists the bassist should have the tattoo done in the traditional manner with a bone hammer and chisel rather than an ink gun.

“That’d be a proper story,” he enthuses. “You’ll be taking on a proper part of Japanese culture by getting Japanese letters done so you may as well get it done Japanese style.” Dom’s plans for tomorrow stretch to little more than a quest for nice shirts. And Matt? “I’ve been told about Japanese rope bondage clubs where you watch girls being lowered up and down by levers. I’d be quite into seeing that”

After lunch we visit the nearby Meiji Jingu, a Shinto shrine honouring Emperor Meiji and his consort Empress Shoken, who presided over Japan from 1868-1912 during a period when Japan enjoyed unprecedented prosperity and major technological and cultural advances. Our talk en route to the shrine centres around ‘fanny lickers’ employed by Empresses in ancient China, which leads to a discussion of the origins of the word ‘hysteria’. Matt reveals that in Victorian England ‘hysterical’ women could be cured by doctors who would relieve their tension by masturbating them. Nice work if you can get it. Like so much of Tokyo, the original Meiji shrine (built in 1920 after the deaths of the Emperor and Empress in 1912 and 1914 respectively) was destroyed by US bombs during WWII. But the present shrine (completed in 1958) is undeniably beautiful. It’s a little disconcerting to find Coca-Cola-sponsored tables and chairs at a café by the entrance to this spiritual place, but the shrine’s serenity is humbling.

“We went to some temples in Osaka and Nagoya when we came to Japan last time,” says Matt quietly. “There were lots of girls and young women with their faces painted white praying and chanting. “It was,” he says with a theatrically arched eyebrow, “just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” No sooner have we passed under the huge cypress Torii (gate) which marks the entrance to the shrine, than the band unwittingly commit a faux pas by sitting down on the threshold of the shrine for photographs. This is considered both bad luck and deeply offensive by our hosts, a fact emphasised when a grey-uniformed security guard shoos the trio to their feet. It’s lucky, really, that he hadn’t seen them two minutes earlier when at a font for ‘ablutions’, Matt threw a ladle-full of water, traditionally used to purify your hands and mouth before entering the temple, into Dom’s face to everyone’s great amusement.

By the main shrine building, women in white robes and traditional tabi (split toe socks) and sandals sell fortunes at 100 Yen a pop. For 800 Yen you can also buy pieces of wood on which wishes are written before being hung alongside hundreds of similar wooden items on a Ofuda wish board. At the main shrine you are supposed to honour the Shinto Gods by bowing twice, clapping your hands twice, and then bowing once more. Nowhere does it say that you’re supposed to exit the shrine with a wave and a cheery shout of “Bye God” as Matt does, but we seem to get away with it without being cursed. Touch wood.

After the beatific calm of the shrine, we’re pitched into Tokyo’s other extreme - the chaotic bustle of Shibuya. This is the face of Japan that Westerners know best - hi-tech, over-crowded and incredibly noisy. It’s an area which traditionally causes Western journalists to blather on about Tokyo’s similarity to ‘Blade Runner’. Shibuya is seemingly populated almost solely by the world’s greatest consumers, teenage Japanese girls, at least 50 per cent of whom seem to be screaming into dinky little mobile phones at any given time as they duck and weave into endless multi-storey department stores. Rather bizarrely, in this cauldron of consumerism, a Tannoy blasts out the election manifesto of the Japanese Communist Party.

The band are approached for handshakes and autographs by a couple of fans as they pose for photographs and then we’re off for a quick trawl around the shops. With nine of us wandering about the maze of shops this is a recipe for disaster, but fortunately Chris’ height and Matt’s stand-out hair colour ensure we keep the group intact. Time restraints mean we don’t get to properly indulge our consumer instincts. However, we’ve more luck in neighbouring ‘Harajuka’, where a stroll up the teenage paradise that is Takeshita yields two new tops for Matt - a tight, black PVC number he describes as “Marilyn Manson-ish”, and a see-through black top with comically overlong sleeves which may be coming to a stage near you in the future.

We all marvel at the cool traffic robots with mechanical arms which signal motorists past roadworks. Clearly, these wouldn’t last two minutes on any UK street. “If you had one of those in your bedroom you could get a shop mannequin and have her bent over with her skirt raised and that robot behind her. It would look like he was spanking her all day,” Matt says brightly. We laugh nervously and drive back to our hotel in silence.

Roppongi is Tokyo’s equivalent of London’s Leicester Square or New York Times Square: a gaudy, tacky, rip-off fleshpot that’s only visited by drunken salarymen on the look-out for some strip club action or tourists with more money than sense. Minus Chris, who has opted for a quiet night, we head there for dinner after discovering that the £100-a-plate hotel restaurant where the band dined last night on lobster and still wriggling shrimps is closed. Besides, we’ve been told about a restaurant called Alcatraz where you eat in mock-up prison cells and are waited upon by Japanese girls in short prison guard uniforms. And the minute that the PVC-clad girl greeting us on the door slaps handcuffs on my girlfriend and I before leading us to our cell we know we’ve made the right decision.

Alcatraz is a splendidly surreal, thoroughly entertaining eatery. The restaurant’s card promises “food, cocktail and neat dimension”, and we soon realise the truth of the latter as the eight of us squeeze into our small, cramped cell. There is a noose suspended above our table and a shadow of a praying man on the back wall. Our ears are continually assaulted by horrific cheesy dance music and the menu initially doesn’t look overly appealing - in keeping with the prison theme one drink is titled ‘Urine’. But as plate after plate of communal food - tuna sashimi donburi, pizza, red snapper Thai spring rolls and wafer thin barbecued cow’s tongue - is washed down with beer and sake and cocktails it all makes a certain sense. The fact that we’ve all supplemented our diet with a freshly-purchased bag of Mexican magic mushrooms only adds to the fun. Conversation is relaxed and easy…despite occasional visual distractions provided by our charming dominatrix host. We talk about Muse’s hilarious live TV performances promoting their last single ‘New Born’.

“I used to be like, ‘Fuck off, we’re not miming’,” Matt admits, “but now I’ve relaised we can have fun with it and put our own stamp on everything we do.” Perhaps the most surreal part of the night is when Matt entertains us with a story about Dom “losing it” at a European festival after donning Corey Slipknot’s mask. The obvious question is what the hell was Dom doing with the mask in the first place.

“Oh, the Slipknot guy threw it to this girl at the side of the stage after they played because he must have wanted to impress her,” says Matt. “Unfortunately for him she wanted me so we got it. I think Dom got possessed by the spirit of Slipknot when he put it on. He was running around screaming.” After dinner, fearing a rip-off of epic proportions we abandon plans to check out Roppongi’s strip clubs - tempting though street girls’ invitations to “come in if you want to pinch some nipples” obviously are - and settle for a quiet drink in the Tokyo Jazz Café. We’re the only customers and it’s just that little bit too chilled out. However, the same can not be said for the final bar we visit, which turns out to be a late-night watering hole for the Japanese and Australian girls working at the neighbouring strip clubs and hostess bars.

Here Tom busts a few moves on the dance floor with a middle-age Japanese man clad from head to toe in white. The rest of us settle for necking cocktails, and watch the off-duty strippers grinding together in a marvellously filthy manner while dragging drunken Japanese businessmen around by their braces. Tremendous. At five in the morning we stumble back out onto the street, our good spirits only slightly dampened by the fact that we have to depart for our flight home in four hours. “Every time we come to Japan we just have a better time,” Dom says with a smile as we trudge back ‘home’ through the blinding early morning sunshine. “And I for one can’t wait to come back.”

Five things Muse love about Japan… (which turns out to be what matt loves about japan…)

Food-Matt: I love my raw fish, sashimi in particular. And the restaurants here are much better than in England. The way that food is served here is more intricate and interesting, and I love the whole ritual that comes with dining out here.

Women-Matt: Japanese girls are really sweet. I’ve had some very good experiences here and I’ve met one girl in particular who’s fucking lush. I fall in love every three months or so, and it’s happening again!

Licensing Laws-Matt: You can drink to five in the morning here which is obviously a good thing. And then if that’s not good enough you can get beer from vending machines along the street. The nightlife can be a bit quiet mid-week but it really kicks off at weekends. We went to one club in Nagoya and ended up dancing on tables in front of the DJ crowd-surfing.

Magic Mushrooms-Matt: They’re legal here which is very, very cool. Japan is very surreal and very intense anyway and doing mushroom just intensifies the whole Japanese experience.

Shopping-Matt: I bought the best gadget of my life on this trip - an MP3 player which can play three hours of music. And I can never find any clothes to fit me at home so I end up buying girl’s clothes but here everyone is my size and I’m spoilt for choice.

Paul Brannigan