Excitingness of excitingness, part-mime part-art part-wonderment band The Irrepressibles have got a brand-spanking new 10-piece line-up and PR representation and everything. (Jamie looks like he's goosed Marilyn Manson, it's quite charming.) I know this because the PR company in question are giving the guestlist cocktails, a lure which would bring a glint to my eye even if it didn't involve the most visually inventive band I've seen in years and one who, more importantly, sound AMAZING.

They're playing a massive Shoreditch warehouse (54 Holliwell Lane) on Sunday 17 and have teamed up with a load of sound artists to basically make the place sing. Sounds horrific, actually heartbreaking. They're bloody good. There will also be "progressive performances" from Futureshorts, Strangeworks, Scottee, Hand To Mouth and Victoria and Anna. They'd better be a damn sight more able than the twat in the hat and feather boa who massacred the sound of rock at the Fashion Week gig last year. Words failed me so I just chuckled instead.

If that doesn't sound your cup of tea, you should thence to lastminute.com and buy the discounted tickets to Robin Ince's Christmas Book Club at the Bloomsbury Theatre which I am going to instead to wave flags at Opera Cat who will be singing in it. It is incredibly lovely and brilliant, with lots of excellent comedians and silliness, so come. To either one.

In other news, I've just seen the video to 'Maneater' by Nelly Furtado. It's rubbish. It's like a less clothingly-inventive version of 'Turn Back Time', only with more fire and less sailors. Nelly loses dog, goes and dances badly with some sulky looking teenagers, finds dog. Whoop-de-whoop. The greatest song of the year deserves a much better video and the director should be horse whipped.