Nelson Galaxy

I have recently returned from the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona. I had a fun time in the Spanish capital and took a sneaky peek at all the new mobile communication devices on show and lots more bling, init.

I managed to drink a lot of free technical booze and rub shoulders with many strange bespectacled tech geeks, with gravy and toothpaste on their jumpers. I dropped and broke a Nokia N86 8MP - now that’s a nice bit of kit . . . . broken kit.

I was offered the chance to shake hands with Black Eyed Peas front man, writer and producer, will.i.am, or William to his friends. However, I called him William 1 a.m. and he pocked me in the chest before snorting some white powder from a machete blade and licking spilt Champaign from a lady’s silicon boobies. What a scamp.

I was planning a return to London for the Brit Awards - my good friends Florence and the Lady GaGa were performing to the moneyed celebrity A, B and C listers. Instead I got embroiled with a gang of sword wielding conquistadors who escorted me to some of the more salubrious parts of Barcelona. I nearly drowned in a swimming pool full of Sangria, was pelted with ripe tomatoes and narrowly missed being skewered by a bull; at least I think it was a bull.

I will try to make up for my absence at the NME awards. MGMT have offered me a place at their table but I will stick with the Donovans of Trash boys – they always look after me when I get too drunk, and I always do. I’d better have a think about my outfit. The alien tube driver lesbian look maybe?