No, because it sounds like a right dive just from the name, right? Well, welcome to the latest scheme to attract people to Northampton.

Northamptonshire – which is where I’m from, for all you uni peoples – is to be rebranded as “North Londonshire” to get Londoners to move there, thanks to a two-year advertising plan funded by the Government (Well, technically, almost half of it’s with your money, so…).

What’s this £1.3 million scheme going to achieve, I hear you hypothetically ask inside my mind. The answer is bring investment and people to Northamptonshire – especially North Northamptonshire – who want to live in London, but want a rural setting. We’re only an hour or so away from there, y’see.

There will be poster campaigns as well as radio advertisements around London promoting North Londonshire as “the best of both worlds”. Oh, how nice and kind of you. Thanks for the compliment.

Most of the Northamptonshire MPs were unaware of the decision until very recently, which is why we’re only hearing about it now.

However, group spokesman Simon Evans says that it’s a good thing it’s caused so much controversy as it get’s people talking outside the county boundaries. Well, no it’s not a good thing, and anyone who doesn’t live in Northamptonshire (bar me, obviously) isn’t going to give a monkeys.

Needless to say, it’s ruffled my feathers. North Londonshire makes us sound like that bit only the ruffians go to. You can imagine people saying “Oh, don’t go to North Londonshire. Certainly not without some sort of automatic gun…”. Please clean the brush before you tarnish us.

Ay, it continues. Friday saw a visit to the Old Fire Station to see a little known band (…) known as Hadouken.

Steve quite graciously picked me up some time before 7. There was a bit of a panic as nobody could get hold of Aleece, who we were supposed to be meeting up with, with her friends. Steve and I just decided to go in anyway and see if we could spot her coming in.

We ourselves got in just as the first support act was finishing. When we got in there there was a little quote-unquote “mosh pit” going on in the centre involving about ten 16-year olds a little to hyped up on their Panda Pops.

There was another support act, who for the love of god I can’t remember the name of, but they were quite good, albeit quite lacking in the variety of music they played. The wee ones kind of calmed down a little. Sugar high had ended.

Then, of course, Hadouken came on. (Well, you’d kind of expect them to, to be fair…)

They played their songs (again, like you’d expect them to) and I was expecting to hear a bunch of songs I’d never heard before seeing as it’s a tour to sell their new album, but no, they played quite a few songs I knew, actually.

But then it ended. In perhaps the most shortest set ever – under an hour long – they’d run out of songs to play. Great. So I essentially just wasted my money? Well, kind of.

Hadouken gigs are something you just have to experience, I guess. There’s nothing about their music that hints towards a nice, sombre listening experience. Of course not. Their songs instantly give the young ones a second wind of excitement thanks in part to their love of Kinder eggs. There’s no stopping them.

Seriously, I felt sorry for Aleece’s friends who had come down to Bournemouth to come see them play, because I was behind the guy behind them, who just wouldn’t stop jumping around on everyone. I know that was kind of the consensus for everyone, but this guy took it to the max. Seriously. He went at it like one of those wind-up teeth that you let go and it just keeps nattering away…

Then there was this little guy who liked jumping up and down just to hit my chin and give me a mouth full of his waxed hair. Thanks, kid.

There’s also this guy who insisted on waving his arm in my face and elbowing my cheek at nearly every other beat. That was until he was taken out by a security guard whilst getting rid of another person. Hey ho.

That’s another thing – I’ve never been a particular fan of the security at the Old Fire Station. It’s like someone’s given them a brief of “…just make sure nobody breaks anything, and get them out of the room as soon as the gig’s finish, mmkay?” and they do little else. A fight broke out in the middle of all the people about half way through and they just stood there. People fell on the floor and couldn’t get up. Grr… what do you get paid for?

Alas, anyway. Carnage on Sunday. That should be a laff.

Hadouken! on 12seconds.tv

Can you imagine waking up on a beach, with no idea who you are, let alone where you are? No money, no phone, nothing? Well spare a thought for this man who had that happen to him.

Yesterday, Police sent out an urgent appeal to find out who exactly this person was. The man in his 20s or 30s was found unconscious on Brighton beach near the pier by a passer by. He had clothes on him (well, thankfully. It would’ve been that little more awkward had he not…) but little else. Nobody knew the person, neither did he. All he knew was that he’s now in Brighton for some reason.

It wasn’t like he was homeless or poor or anything. He was described as being well-dressed, spoke good English and unfortunately suffering from hypothermia (but I can kind of guess where that came from…).

After his picture was released to the news services, today his identity has been  “95%” confirmed and someone’s coming up from London to try and figure out what exactly happened.

But imagine that. Just appearing randomly on Brighton beach, or anywhere for that matter (because Brighton’s just a bit too scary to randomly end up in) with no idea who you are, let alone how you got there. Not knowing anyone, no money, no form of contact. You’re essentially born again, but in the body of a 20-something. What would you do?

The case mirrors another one that happened in 2005 where a German man called Andreas Grassl somehow ended up in England, at a beach in Sheerness. He refused to talk when found and when given paper, drew a piano. When they gave him a piano, he then continued to play music such as The Beatles for about four hours until hospital staff took it off him.

Other times, he drew a Swedish flag and when shown a map, pointed to Oslo. However his identity was revealed to be German when one day he woke up and “just knew who [he] was”, after speculation printed in The Mirror as to his identity.

Creepy as. But what would you do if you were in this sort of situation – Woke up with no idea who or where you were?

1. Backing Young Britain’s a pretty good idea.

2. Live bands are epic.

3. All the work I need to do ends up needing to be done at one time.

4. The sun reminds me why I chose to live in Poole, when it comes out.

5. I’m waiting for Lara Croft’s Back Passage jokes.