Last night was, as my close friends in the grime scene say, “A LOT” (shout out to Tinie!). Ya boy Ed was on a wave like I was riding on the crest of a Japanese tsunami (no offence intended to my fans if you or anyone you know has ever been affected by a tsunami). I bagged a couple gongs, sang a little song, wrestled my way through the press throng, went home and smoked a bong – nothing long.
The highlight of my night was meeting Rihanna, who was terribly pleasant and extraordinarily choong. She told me she had insomnia issues, I told her if she needed a ghetto guy to come and sing her a sweet lullaby, I was her guy. She didn’t catch the last part and told me to let her know if I knew of someone who fitted the description. That made me feel quite shit.
Adele cheered me up, though. She totally owned the past year and last night she absolutely merked it. She raised her gunfingers in a salute to urban Britain and her middle finger to the establishment. Good grief, was that a par-and-a-half when she was cut off at the end, though? I would have been utterly mortified if I’d been in her creps.