Last night we went to see Spiritulized at Union Chapel. Union Chapel, in case you don't know or can't tell from its name, is a church. They have various concerts there but you can't drink 'within sight of the alter'. Fair enough - we were there to hear some music, not get drunk.
But then in walks Rhys Ifans. 'Is that that Welsh actor who was in the Observer this weekend?' said my friend Jane. I put on my glasses. I'm not that certain but then I notice his blonde fur-coated companion. 'Yes it is' I replied 'because that is Sienna Miller'.
They were seating in a row opposite ours, but one that had been reserved. It wasn't any different from the other pews, but you know you can't have famous people having to get there early to find a seat like everyone else.
Their party was joined by a mother and daughter double-act of screeching harpees who may or may not have been Pearl and Daisy Lowe. Who? You may well ask. A woman with a couple of failed attempts at a music career before she settled on being a rockstar girlfriend, married a drummer from a mediocre indie band (I actually quite like Supergrass but still...) and is now famous for not having a threesome, taking a lot of drugs and making overpriced net curtains. On the back of this, her daughter is now a model.
But then worst of all, Rhys pulls out a bottle of wine and starts swigging it. In a Church. Is God a fan of whatever films it is he's been in?
And for all the fuss these people make about wanting to be left alone, they don't exactly make themselves inconspicuous. Running up and down the aisles, wailing like banshees, insisting that the rules don't apply to you. Hardly blending in, is it?
The support act was Simple Kid, who has a song with the line "Celebrities go home, go home to your mama". I couldn't have put it better myself.