Stags night

In an age of networking, the contact is king. So I was pleased to link up with the landlord at Stags Head, 102 New Cavendish Street, London W1W 6XW. A Leicester City season ticket holder, he's sure to guarantee the right entertainment on the plasma screens. (OK, so that success is down to the timely intervention of Rob Kelly.) Thanks to all concerned for a decent Friday night - it beats staying in and (ahem!) listening to Chris Isaak.

Talking of connections, it was interesting to see Decca Aitkenhead expressing some similar points to mine about Francis Gilbert's Yob Nation (buy it here, UK readers). 'Any project that promises to reveal "the truth about Britain's yob culture" makes me nervous. As a field of media enquiry, yobbishness is uniquely prone to lurid melodrama and vicarious titillation, and more often than not produces work which says more about the jumpy panic of the middle-class wuss than it ever reveals about the character of the yob. Its trademark is the sensationalised anecdote about a fairly minor violent incident, recounted as if it were the worst thing that ever happened to anyone.' In other words, she recognises that the book and its marketing campaign occupy a reactionary niche, even though - on closer inspection - it makes some interesting points about incivility and broken social bonds. (Trends thankfully absent from Stags Head public house last night...)