And so the Long, Hard Fuck Off commences.

Huge respect due to Will Wright and everyone else involved in Slack Space - a lot of love's gone into that project, for virtually no financial reward, so absolute kudos to those guys. The night started off with a series of short films, apparently based around comedy (although being a total comedy snob I would debate that). I started to feel a little odd about two thirds of the way through, using the toilets at least twice.

After what felt like an eternity, the Reverend Wright introduces Tristan Burfield, vying for the title of "most billings shared with Mixo" - he's on 3, Scorpio Scorpio's on 4... Having performed with hacked Nintendo Entertainment System software before, he now hacks into a series of Commodore 64 computer chips, playing a fine selection of tunes, including a Jean Michel Jarre number for good measure.

After a quick pack up, it's my turn. Beginning with a quote from Gordon Lish ("I see the notion of talent as quite irrelevant. I see instead perseverance, application, industry, assiduity, will, will, will, desire, desire, desire.") I burst into a cover of an NWA classic, alebit slightly altered to fit my retirement-based circumstances - 'Straight Outta Kelvedon'. One Ray Parker Jnr point-maker and the Cassetteboy collab later, it's a karaoke version of the wonderful Deano Merino song 'Golf'.

I then try to make some kind of sense about the reasons behind my self-imposed retirement from live shows. I conclude that it's basically just getting a bit silly now, and I've got slightly better ideas to be working on. But rather than go out with a whimper like so many stadium acts do, I decide it's far more in my nature to go out with a bang, and hopefully get worse as these retirement shows progress, culminating in one of the worst things any human being will ever see at a live music show. Unless they've seen GG Allin, obviously.

"The" Marvin Gaye/NiN one, Rock Me Nellydeus and Crockett Like It's Hot finish the main part of the set off (pausing only to announce my disliking of the "N" word used far too frequently in the last track). But that's no way to end a set is it? So I trick the audience into letting me play one more. You can probably guess what that one is if I simply say the phrase "nose-bleed". As I throw myself around the floor though, I suddenly feel quite a bit worse for wear. A nasty taste in my mouth reminds me of when I reckon I had swine flu a few weeks back. Finally collapsing on the floor, I realise I am going to be sick. After some chap in a clown outfit drags me around the floor a bit (giving me some nasty carpet burns in the process) I finally grab a cup for vomiting purposes.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ANOTHER MIXOMATOSIS FIRST - ON-STAGE VOMITING!!!

Dan Merrill hastily leaves in fear, any concern for my health goes almost immediately when I realise the amount of vomit is fairly tiny, and everyone tells me how good I apparently am at behaving like a tit on stage. One thing is certain, they will not be saying that by the end of the tour. And how do I plan to follow this up? I have no idea, but Southend might want to get some protective clothing ready...