Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

On entering the venue you could've been forgiven for being at a school disco, with the main room's terrible acoustics meaning you were hard pushed to engage with the tunes over the excitable chatter of the fresher's crowd.

Maybe they should have frequented the Mr Scruff tea hut at the back of the hall: Never a queue, never a hangover and the bonus of seeing a master at work.

Meanwhile in the main hall Mr Scruff, a lone DJ from Manchester with a massive following, was warning dancers of incoming baselines on the two huge projections that flanked him.

And the warnings were spot on - the tunes were dropped and chopped masterfully (eclectic would be the overused term) best describing what was in his record bag and its theme would be proper soulful party tunes.

From funk and Larry Levin disco it was a journey through dance culminating in a final 20 minutes of filthy drum and bass, much to the joy of the crowd.

There was no way he was going to finish on his last track and the projections questioned "one more?" to screams of approval.

The slow building folk infused jig that he replied and finished with took away the last shreds of resistance (if there was any in this crowd) and as the bass kicked in people rocked out arm in arm Cossack style as Mr Scruff left the stage..........off no doubt to have a nice cup of tea.