My introduction to the world of ex-con burlesque singers, strippers and Tom Waits lookalikes still has to happen. It was on the cards for Friday. Then a fire broke out on Dean Street, not in the vicinity of the club I was supposed to be going to, but still close enough, nevertheless, to find itself within the exclusion zone the Fire Brigade set up.

So we made up for it with a great meal at my Italian artist's friend's flat in the East End.