It's good to be back

Oasis are returning and dads of Britain are getting very excited.

Everyone has their Oasis connection - they were omnipresent in the late 90s. And with a reunion tour rumoured to include 10 nights at Wembley, there will be room for all. Whether they retain (or have ever had) that level of appeal is another matter.

I saw them four times in their pomp and that's probably enough for me. The idea of standing among coked up Oasis fans in a football stadium that still reminds me of how badly behaved England fans can be, is as appealing as having my eyebrows plucked - something the metrosexual Gallaghers of 2024 probably know more about than their oikish younger selves.

The first time I saw them was just before Definitely Maybe came out. The early singles were the most exciting things I'd heard in years and I got tickets for their show at the Kentish Town Town & Country Club which was about 10 minutes walk from where I lived in Chalk Farm.

Surprisingly, the gig was pretty flat through a combination of unfamiliarity with the album, which wasn't yet out, and a standoff between bolshie band and an entitled London crowd. I maintain that if they'd played a week later when people had heard how brilliant Definitely Maybe was, they'd have blown the roof off.

The next live appearance was on the morning of the release of What's the Story at a 'secret' gig at the old Oxford Street Virgin Megastore. In a sign of things to come Liam stropped off drunk so I never got his signature on my copy of the album - Noel's is though.

A couple of months later they redeemed themselves with a great pre-Christmas gig at the Hammersmith Palais which was probably their peak for me. The two things that stick in my mind have nothing to do with the show itself though. It was where two friends, who are now married, got together, and I bumped into underachieving singer songwriter Nikki Sudden (a slight obsession of mine) at the bar.

After that high point it was a while before I saw them again. I had no interest in the Knebworth love in, but for some reason decided it would be a good idea to see them in Finsbury Park in 2002, probably because it was nearish to where I lived in Hackney.

Bad idea actually. The crowd was a menacing, belligerent bunch of mainly men, off their heads and bellowing at the few women there to 'get 'em out'. It really didn't feel safe for women.

And the band themselves were bored and boring. I was glad to get away from there with my then girlfriend, now wife. I don't think either of us were that bothered about Oasis for a long time after that.

Yet, they still linger and I'm not completely immune to their charms. It's just that they seem slightly comic nowadays. The cutting description of Liam as "one of the great anorak wearers of our times" still makes me snigger.

As an amateur strummer, I have a certain respect for Noel's gift with melody. You only have to play that Em7 chord and warble "Today is gonna be the day..." to have the rest of the room chime in.

But see them live again? No thanks. If they meant anything to my kids I might sort out the inevitably overpriced tickets, but if they're even on their radar, it's as a bit of a joke band - the old guys with the big eyebrows.

Hopefully there will be enough multigenerational and mixed sex groups at the upcoming shows to make them more joyous and less sinister than the last time I saw them. Both Liam and Noel are dads themselves now and it's always been a family affair.

For me though, I think I'll wait for the inevitable showing on the idiot box. That's as close as I need to be this time. Definitely... maybe...

White riot

Worrying times in England. The last few nights have seen coordinated rioting in mainly northern English towns and cities - Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, Hull, Rotherham.

It's rioting weather - hot and warm. The schools are on holiday. There's no football on and possibly lingering grievance that England didn't win the Euros.

The spark was a horrific attack on a children's event in Southport that left three girls dead. This has been weaponised by online right wing provocateurs calling for protests against immigration - the attacker was actually a British national.

As often with these outbreaks copycat events have occurred. At the moment, it feels like things are teetering on the edge and police are struggling to cope.

The obvious comparison is the rioting of 2011. The genesis was different but the rapid spread, the descent into violence and looting, and the overwhelming of police forces all looks horribly familiar.

There are big differences though. There is a racist element to this rioting. Asylum seeker hotels are being targeted. Shops and businesses owned by minority groups have been targeted. Black people have been attacked by racists.

It's nauseating to see the cocky way in which young white men have embraced these riots. Any cover that they were in some ways protests about Southport disappeared pretty quickly. They've devolved into a coke and booze fuelled carnivals of idiocy by prats in balaclavas and track suits. Parading their battered streets with twin armed salutes at possibly the most meaningful moment in their lives. Hold that smile lads - it's all on camera.

There will inevitably be long sentences for many of these dickheads, and so there should be. It's not a crime to be thick and gullible but it'll get you banged up.

Hopefully there will also be comeuppance for those who have thrown fuel on the fire, whether that's the keyboard warriors who spread disinformation and organised riots, or the snake tongued politicians like Farage who give them succour and encouragement. Shame on them.

For now it's sad and concerning as another night of increasingly violent rioting looms. As in the hot summer in 2011, I'm hoping for a downpour to dampen the enthusiasm of fairweather knuckle draggers.

Of course, a year after the 2011 riots came the triumphant London Olympics of 2012 which still feel like a hug around the country. 

Don't let the idiots win. There are more of us than them.