Two songs in and, despite the vast amount of space that occupies the cavernous MEN Arena, you could already catch the unmistakeable aroma of sweat, mingled with those friendly wafts of weed.

Because it was bloody impossible not to dance.

Classic tracks and playful twists. And always that unifying build-up to a beautiful, broad-beam-inducing, crazyfool dancing climax.

And Maxi Jazz. A slight figure, bouncing up and down with easy exuberance on the balls of his feet; arms raised, embracing the atmosphere, in complete control of the rhythm and mood of the crowd.

God he's cool.

The roof of this vast arena was duly raised.

And then, towards the very end, so was Maxi's shirt.

To reveal a really quite spectacular body. All hard, lean, moulded muscle.

G and I look at each other. Yep, we're definitely thinking the same thing.

Phwoooaaar!

Ahhh. Spring has sprung.

*fans self*