Well, they're not that anymore, unless Axl happens to catch you with his latest squeeze. As for the songs, well you can’t deny they’ve written the odd semi-classic. November Rain swept over us in all its immense, tear-filled glory. What else? We got some fair acoustic shit – a by now predictably marathon version of Knockin' On Heaven's Door, Then the solos reared their ugly heads, so I went off for a piss. And in the midst of this Red Beard ran about like a monkey on speed, attired in his bovver boy chic, and stompin' all over some bloody great sofa. The encores Sweet Child O' Mine and Paradise City bring things back into focus. But, standing in the rain, I was left feeling that something was missing, and I don't just mean Axl's marbles.