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The last time I went to the Capital FM Arena was to see/review Guns ‘n’ Roses in 2012 and I had trouble gaining entry due to the incompetence of the staff that had no idea about guestlists. This was during the first run of The Sunday Alternative on radio so they were risking a real verbal kicking on air the following day, luckily it was sorted and tickets were found for me and Rapunzel MAP who was attending the show with me. In a rare flash of optimism I assumed that everything would be alright last night as I took Mandi to see Ant and Dec. Door time was advertised as half past six with show time at half past seven, so with one cautious eye on the fact that something might go wrong we turned up at six o’clock to collect our tickets. True to form the guest list wasn’t going to be available (?) until half past six, so my plan to beat the queue had already gone to pot. For some reason the Arena doesn’t have a press area and they also make reviewers queue despite the fact that we need to properly set out our stall once seated; pad, pen, torch, that sort of thing. Half past six came and went and I was eventually brought an envelope with my name on it containing what I imagined to be our tickets. Luckily I opened the envelope before moving away from the spot as I discovered that due to some fuck up, (either by the promoter, highly unlikely as I had an email from her to confirm two tickets, or the venue – more likely as they have form in this area) there was only one ticket. The thought of sitting through an entertainment spectacle like the live version of Ant & Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway on my own is frankly ridiculous. I don’t mind so much going to live music on my own as I usually know someone there, but live comedy is to be enjoyed with someone. After a bit of busying around, the same woman came back with another ticket situated away from my seat, so Mandi and I would have to sit separately to watch the show. This was the point that I told her there would be no review and walked out.

Having a copy of the email on my phone made no difference, and as I don’t have his number I had to use Twitter to get in touch with Simon Wilson, the editor of EG, to ask him to ring the Arena and sort this shit out, which is what I would have immediately done if I was the entertainment editor of a local newspaper. I had temporarily forgotten that staff at the paper do not know how to use a telephone in the old fashioned way and Simon’s tweeted replies were not helpful, (I hope he rang or emailed this morning to give them hell), so I was left to fend for myself.

The Arena really needs to sort this kind of mess out as they embarrassed themselves last night and made them look like a cowboy operation. A better system than the one they have in place is desperately needed. It astounds me that they don’t even have a press area for a start (at Guns ‘N’ Roses we had to sit in a balcony seat). I am not suggesting red carpet welcomes and rose petals scattered in front of us to walk on, but some basic common sense would be nice, or at least an apology and a drink for someone who could include it in his review (although it would be removed before publication so it wouldn’t make a difference). They certainly need better provisions in place so that we can be assisted in doing our jobs. Rather than having to queue for tickets we should be issued in advance with a press pass by either post or a printable email to take with us and be ushered into the press area.

Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen (or in this case the keyboard) is mightier than the sword, according to Edward Bulwer-Lytton, so I didn’t make a fuss as there was no point. It is my hope that people go public with stories of this slapdash approach to running a venue which is on the ‘big tour’ route. I could have kicked off but I simply wasn’t ready to rumble.

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