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I reckon it’s far out—started way back, ancient cats in China or somethin’, usin’ it to spark the old engines, if ya know what I mean! Little known fact: them geishas in Japan, they’d tease with oils, slippin’ and slidin’, pure art, baby! Makes me wanna shout, “Yeah, baby, yeah!”—pure bliss, no jive. But here’s what grinds my gears—some squares think it’s all naughty, dodgy business. Nah, mate, it’s therapy with a twist! Had me fumin’ once when a bloke called it sleazy—oi, lighten up, ya muppet!

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But then, I get a text. My guitar’s been left at the pub! Panic mode activated! I sprint back, dodgin’ puddles like I’m in some kinda obstacle course. I get there, and thank the music gods, my guitar’s chillin’ behind the bar. I grab it, and the bartender’s laughin’ at me. “You’re a bit of a mess, aren’t ya?” I just grin and say, “Yeah, but I’m a happy mess!”

Take a look inside Silvertown tunnel before next week's opening