Damn it's unfeasibly hot in here, or is it just me? Perhaps it's just my hormones, which are without a doubt wreaking havoc with my body temperature these days. Plus it doesn't exactly help matters when I'm unapologetically perving at a very sweaty, open-shirted Brett.
Yeah I know, it's bad. Even now the sight of him still makes me drool.
The Manchester Apollo is a relatively small venue, which is nice and intimate, but the heat from all the bodies packed in here is like being slowly cooked in an oven...gas mark 12, and all that.
The fevered atmosphere is electric, the noise of dedicated fans screaming and singing along to the lyrics fill the room, and the giddiness I feel transports me right back to my teen years again. It's nostalgia overload, as my heart thuds and flutters in my
