Are you ever too old or posh to take drugs?

I was reading an interview with novelist Tony Parsons in the Observer Magzine last Sunday, in which he proclaimed "drugs are ridiculous for anyone over 25." That seems a particularly wild statement. A lot of people these days haven't even moved out of their parents' house by 25, and are still going to raves well into their thirties. 25 seems a little premature to wield the "look at that twat" axe.

Maybe I'm biased. I don't see what is so ridiculous about taking drugs anyway. (I presume we are talking about recreational substances here, not injecting-into-your-eyeballs smack and crack addictions - more on which later). Speaking as someone who went out and took drugs more or less for a living, and exceeded Mr Parson's cut off point by about five years, I don't really understand his second comment: "Whatever a person's age, [drugs are] always a dead end," he rattles on. "You are always chasing (and failing) to recreate that first hit."

Really? If I'd been trying and failing to recreate that "first hit" (excuse the arcane drug-speak) every time I graced the dancefloor, I would have got fed up with it all long before I did. Besides, it's entirely possible to get just as totally mashed the 50,000th time as the first, if you know the right dealers.

Which one Chelsea billionaire and his missus allegedly do. Tetra Pak heir Hans Kristian Rausing and his wife Eva have been nicked on suspicion of possesion of crack cocaine and heroin after being caught "trying to smuggle small wraps of drugs into a function at the US embassy"

According to the Evening Standard, Mrs Rausing is a keen tennis player and patron of a drugs charity - but this image of a functioning 'crackhead' does not compute with the stuffy newspaper which goes on to reveal: "it also shows how crack has risen out of inner city ghettoes and been adopted by some middle-class drug users." No shit! Speak to anyone who goes out in East London and they'll tell you of Bank Holiday crack banquettes and arty farty types who love an occasional pipe. When are the media going to get with the programme? No one is too posh or too old to take drugs.

Dance round your handbags

Current urban faves Wiley and Skepta have followed up their DSK-sampling 'Wearing My Rolex' with the highly imaginative 'Rolex Sweep'. Even though the lyrics are almost identical (champagne for me, champagne for you, some bollocks about watches), the new track - which samples some 90s hard house grooves - has spawned a dance to go with it: The Rolex sweep...

Here's a couple of gentlemen showing us how it's done (and not looking that much like Whigfield in a car park, honest):



This sort of palaver made me think about the weird and wonderful world of Crasher dancing back in the late 90s:



Which has now evolved (via pinching bits of the hard house 'spoogie') into something a bit more bonkers - Tecktonik - on the continent:




As you'd expect, all of these dances look much better after you've had a few...

Happy birthday Mixmag

Mixmag magazine is celebrating its 25th anniversary this month. I'm pleased to say I've been writing for them since 1995 (apart from when the magazine went all 'tits and bums' during the dark years of 2002-2006).

When I was a wayward teenager - having left school at fifteen with no qualifications or ambitions - writing about going clubbing and listening to dance music seemed like the ideal job. I'd stand in WHSmith flicking through to Dan Prince's Club Country column, or Pembo's Five Star Clubbing and read in total awe of their amazing adventures. Clubs editor of Mixmag in those days (1992) seemed like the best job in the world... luckily I got to find out that it was all that and more, when I was finally made clubs editor in 1998.

For five years I visited practically every club in the UK - from hard as nails techno clubs, (including one which took place under an Indian restaurant in Paisley, the waiters behind the bar) to girlie glam clubs, I did them all, and lived my dream. I even got to write my own version of Dan Prince's column... mission accomplished.

These days Mixmag has moved on. But their 25th birthday issue pays homage to the artists that have been highly influential over the years. They made a little video at the photoshoot: Goldie seems to be enjoying himself, (and not at all the same person who threatened an old editor with violence when he was unhappy with an interview). Norman Cook is still wearing his Hawaiian shirt, Claire Manumission looks like someone's mum, not someone who once pulled a Union Jack out of her fanny on stage in Ibiza. Ah, we're all getting old. But most of us are still at it!

Flakey DJs

This week I have been mostly getting let down by flakey DJs who obviously think I pay my rent with shirt buttons. Let me tell you, music PR is a thankless enough task without having to do it for free, mateys.

DJs are notorious bare-faced blaggers though - like this pair of chancers who managed to push their way in to every club they approached armed with nothing more than some 'ironic' shades and a record bag.