Trying out singles by unfamiliar bands is the closest I’m allowed to get to speed dating before the missus has my guts for garters. The task for both single and singleton is remarkably similar – tout your wares in three or four minutes, and maybe you might lure one or two folks over for a one-off night of sweaty fun. Or, if you’re really lucky, you might find someone willing to invest in you, someone happy to take you home, unwrap you and play with you regularly for years to come.

If ‘Summer Loans’ is a speed dater, she’s certainly an odd one. She looks as though she’s probably quite attractive, but half her face is covered by her hair and a strange series of veils. She seems like quite good company, but she’s got a difficult accent and she keeps pausing and shifting position and turning round. She could be in a deliriously good mood, she could equally be feeling quite depressed. I suppose she could grace the cover of a magazine, but I’m not entirely convinced it’d be a particularly successful issue. Once the four minutes are up, I can’t work out whether I want more or whether she’s completely wasted my time. I look down at her bag. There’s a New Order badge next to a sticker of a monkey with a cheeky face, and just below that are the words 'East Coast Punk!!!' scrawled in red pen. As she gets up to walk to her next interlocutor I notice she’s got some sort of '60s 12-inch stuffed under her arm.

I scratch my head and give her the benefit of my considerable doubt.