Wrong place, wrong time. Who said that God doesn't have a sense of humour? Time for the bar talk. So who is the best? Kylie or Madonna. Kylie is the practical choice - she'll have a fridge full of chicken curry pies for when you get hungry and, let's be honest, Madonna is just scary. Quick show of hands - Kylie wins.
Roscoe is on first complete with check shirt and guitar. He also adopts a faux American accent. I'm not entirely sure if he's doing a pastiche or he is just suffering from the result of excessive exposure to Gram Parsons's records. Moving swiftly on…
Philip Feenan shows considerably more musical dexterity than the first act. Although tending towards the downbeat and indeed spending most of his set staring intently at the ground, there were nonetheless signs of commercial song writing ability amongst all the angst.
Jamie Flett and the Flaming Jets round things off for the evening. Despite a rather shambolic performance, there is still much to enjoy in their mellow, world weary songs with the episodic "Ruby and Pearl" shining brightest.
Tomorrow is another day. It will still be raining.