Recently: I attend Ms Jennifer Connor's birthday party at a house in Tufnell Park. I choose her event over the three other parties I've been invited to the same night. Partly because she asked first, but mostly because the evening includes a screening of the 80s John Hughes film, 16 Candles.

The film (rented from Archway Video, naturally) is projected upon a wall in the living room, and we watch in darkness. Just like a proper cinema. But even better: chocolate brownies and Rice Krispie cakes are passed around. I am in heaven.

I'd forgotten just how brilliant 16 Candles was. Like Some Kind Of Wonderful it's often overshadowed by the more iconic likes of The Breakfast Club and Pretty In Pink. It features Ms Molly Ringwald as the ultimate sulky teenager. Mr Anthony Michael Hall stealing every scene as The Geek. Mr John and Ms Joan Cusack aged about 12. An extremely unlikely plot – her parents forget her own birthday. And all that fossilised, nay, <i>crystallized</i> period music. Proustian rather than nostalgic.

The only flaw in the film is the Chinese exchange student character, included for comic stereotypical effect. Just like Mr Mickey Rooney's Landlord in Breakfast At Tiffany's. And now we have Lost In Translation. You can't have a classic American movie without a Worryingly Stereotypical Use Of Far Eastern Characters, it seems. Perhaps it's in the screenwriting masterclasses.

I ask another American chap at the party: was it just Mr Hughes's own taste, or did US teens in the 80s really listen to all that British pop, rather than anything from the US? Simple Minds, Altered Images, Nick Heyward, Specials, Stray Cats, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran… He assures me they did. So much fuss is made these days about new UK acts needing to "break America"… Robbie Williams trying again and again, for one. In the 80s, US success for a British pop group appears to be automatic. On this evidence, I wonder if The Stray Cats have sold more records than Mr Williams?

<img align=left src="http://www.fosca.com/alexm-dickon.jpg">
Here's another photo taken earlier the same evening, at a pub on Fortess Road. I'm speaking to Mr Alex Mayor, of the band Baxendale and now in the exciting new group, <a href="http://www.alexandersfestivalhall.org" target="_blank">Alexander's Festival Hall</a>, who are playing at RoTa this Saturday. He's one of the most deliciously arch London men I've ever met. Which as you might imagine, is saying something.

At Trash the other day, some stranger accused me of trying to look like… Mr Peter Cook. Not heard that one before. I wonder if my face isn't taking on Cook-like qualities as I get older and more dissolute.

Looking at this photo, though, I think I do slightly resemble Mr Cook… though as played by Mr Rhys Ifans.

I have no idea why, in the photo, my hand is holding my drink in such an unlikely manner. Alex and I appear to be holding an Unconsciously Effeminate Wrist competition. That's the one remaining sport the British can still beat the world at. I must write to to the UK Olympic Committee at once.

I could even be an alternative Action Man prototype. The Dickon Edwards Doll – Inaction Man. With darting left-to-right Eagle Eyes to quickly see Who Else Is At The Party. Comes with Unrealistic Gripping Hands.