㊙️ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐁𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐍...

🔸🔸𝘿𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙚. 𝙂𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙍𝙖𝙬 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙩. 𝙂𝙖𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙣.🔸🔸

𝐼𝑛 2001, 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑏𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑏𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑇𝑜𝑘𝑦𝑜 𝑎𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝐴𝑖𝑟 𝐸𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐾𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔! 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠.

𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐽𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡, ℎ𝑒𝑦... 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑏𝑜 ! 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙! 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 ! 😊

𝐼𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑗𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠.
𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 !

Photo credit: Pat Pope, edit by Laetitia

🔻 🔻 🔻 🔻

🔸🔸 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 🔸🔸

🔸Placebo frontman Brian Molkos loud, drunken proclamation is a great source of amusement to me and 𝑲𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈! 𝑷𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝑷𝒂𝒕 𝑷𝒐𝒑𝒆. It's not, however, so mirthsome to several hundred Virgin Atlantic passengers who are attempting to sleep.

We're nearing the end of a flight from London to Tokyo and it's eight in the morning, Japanese time. The jet lag involved on such a journey is notoriously vicious - a fact which Molko clearly ignored as he consumed several glasses of red wine, one beer and, far more damagingly, some dodgy Spanish sleeping pills.

"𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠! 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔?!" roars Molko at the rows of eye-masked, blanket-draped travellers, who were hoping to catch some sleep in this darkened cabin.

A stewardess hurries through the aisle towards us.

"𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑆𝑖𝑟", she tells Brian."𝑃𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝".

Molko slaps a hand over his mouth, looking genuinely repentant.

"𝐹**𝑘", he whispers, as the stewardess heads off. "𝐼 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑒. 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑏!"

Sixty seconds later, however, Molko is back up to full volume as he notes that long-running Eastenders character Pauline Fowler hasnt had a cock up her fanny in 20 years! No wonder she's got problems'!

Brian Molko started this flight with his tour manager and bandmates in Premium Economy class, which is situated between Business and Economy. He subsequently wandered through to Business class, where he was ejected for excessively foolish behaviour.

Holding my hand, he further claims that he was caught smoking in the lavatory, but managed to avoid the fine by handing a stewardess a signed copy of Placebo's latest album 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄. This claim is, in all likelihood, boozy bollocks.

As Molko's slurred babbling continues, his press officer, Jakob, starts getting worried. He warns Brian that the plane's staff may have him arrested when we hit Tokyo.

"𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑒", shrugs Molko. "𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑢𝑏 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼'𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, '𝑁𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑝 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦'𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑠, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙'."

You get the impression that Tokyo is about to experience yet another Godzilla interface.


🔸Despite Brian Molko's repeated insistence that we all have to go shopping as soon as we arrive, he isn't destined to join us. We last spot him standing in the immigration queue, with eyes not unlike piss-holes in the snow. He is, however, still grinning.

Brian Molko displays cheery facial features with surprising regularity, even when stone cold sober. It's surprising, because the frontman has long been associated with scowling, tantrums, arrogance and cattily blowing cigarette smoke in people's faces.

Still, he has a lot to be happy about on this trip. Japan is a treat in many ways, whether you're a gourmet gadget-freak or simply a fan of ankle socks. Our hotel is placed in the Akasaka district, which is dominated by straight-looking business buildings and initially looks relatively un-Japanese, save the cigarette and drink vending machines that line the streets.

At around 7 p.m., band and Kerrang! convene in our hotel's bar. Shockingly, Molko has a demeanour bordering on the sheepish. He laughs as he proclaims himself a silly c**t for his plane antics, while bassist Stefan Olsdal, drummer Steve Hewitt, keyboardist Bill Lloyd and diamond geezer tour manager Steve Chapman rip the piss.

"𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦", admits Stefan.

"𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢", deadpans Hewitt grumpily. "𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐵𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒."

To add to Molko's humiliation, he has lost his wallet, containing his cash and credit cards, which we initially interpret as an attempt to avoid getting a round in. In the hotel foyer, sits a fan with spiky green hair. The band have met him before on their previous two visits to this country. Stefan strangely refers to him as Blue Boy.

"𝐻𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔, ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠. 𝐼 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔."

As we head out of the bar, two smiling female fans almost eerily emerge from behind a pillar. Molko smiles back and signs their copies of Black Market Music.

"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒", he grins.


🔸Prostitues stand on most corners of Akasaka's neon-splashed streets. Smartly dressed, they hardly exude sleaze.

"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒", says Molko as we stroll. "𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎... 𝑓𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐴𝑠𝑖𝑎𝑛 p𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒".

Despite being single right now, following the recent end of a two-year relationship. Molko claims he doesn't intend to canoodle during Placebo's Japanese stay.

"𝐶𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.", he explains.

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑊𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑔 𝐽𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛. 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚, 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑢𝑝."

You've experienced this first-hand?

"𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒, 𝑦𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐼𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔-𝑖𝑛-𝑡ℎ𝑒-𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛."

Disappointingly on the culinary front, we finally descend on an Italian restaurant.

Reasons Molko: "𝐼𝑓 𝑤𝑒 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝐽𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝐽𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔."

A major part of the culture shock here is generated by the totally alien language, both verbally and written. Whereas in France or Germany, you might recognise part of a word and work it out, Japanese symbols and spoken word is impenetrable to all but those who have studied it for some time. While few Japanese restaurants seem to include photographs of the meal - or even three-dimensional plastic replicas - for tourists to cautiously point at.

Over dinner, conversation is casual enough, with all present raving about the movies Goodfellas and Casino. Molko asks about bands of the moment and professes a liking for Queens of the Stone Age.

Doesn't he wish he'd thought of the drug shopping-list lyrics of 'Feel Good Hit of the Summer'?

"𝑌𝑒𝑠", he smirks.

Photo credit: Pat Pope

Another surprising thing about Brian Molko is that, unlike many people in bands, he actually seems to listen. Good God, he even asks questions based on what you've just said. Quite remarkable.

The meal costs us - or more specifically the band's press officer, Jakob - £180. Being vaguely lubricated with booze by now, we head off in search of one of Tokyo's many karaoke bars. These things are apparently big business, but our search proves fruitless. We take tiny lifts up into one building, only to find that the karaoke bar has closed. As one set of life doors close on Molko, myself and snapper Pope, the frontman cries out to his bandmates left behind.

"𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎!"

The hearty laughter confirms that Molko has finally come to terms with the press and become more comfortable with it.

We enter an up-and-running karaoke bar, only to leave shortly after arriving. It seems that the place isn't communal.

"𝑊𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚", explains the singer. "𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑢𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟."

To the nearest pub it is, then. And a pub it quite literally turns out to be, because - after a good 15 minutes wandering around and finding places shut - we shame-facedly settle on an English-style bar called 'The Hobgoblin'.

The moment we go in, the volume of pissed-up chatter is gratingly apparent, after the relatively hushed tones of the Japanese. People are throwing darts and talking loudly, while an English football game plays on TV.

"𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒", grins Brian ruefully. "𝑊𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 '𝑜ℎ-𝑚𝑦-𝐺𝑜𝑑-𝑖𝑡'𝑠-𝑟𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑠ℎ' 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑜 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑒?"

Yes. For some reason, however, we end up staying for at least two rounds, as conversation flits through fake breasts (something about how the saline solution in them can leak), Dogme95 films like 'The Idiots' and how ex-Judas Priest singer, Rob Halford allegedly fancies Brian.

"𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙, 𝑀𝑟 𝑀𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑜?

𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑒𝑑."


🔸When we leave the bar, the streets of Akasaka are deserted, save an endless stream of taxi cabs with no passengers in them. Weird.

Back at the hotel, Blue Boy is no longer waiting in the foyer - even hardcore fans clearly have their limits.

We set up camp in the press officer's hotel room, fish some beers from the mini-bar and commence that deeply unfortunate all-male ritual: scoring the pay TV channels for porn.

"𝐼𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑡", says Brian, "𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚? 𝐼𝑡'𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠."

"𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑗𝑒𝑟𝑘", offers Stefan, probably not referring to a member of the veteran US punk combo.

When we find porn in the shape of an American movie named 'Complicity', it's of the no close-ups variety. Only the first five minutes are free of charge, but we keep it going anyway.

"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑠", complains Stefan as yet another female head bobs up and down at the bottom of the screen. "𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑚 𝐼 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠? 𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝐼'𝑚 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔."

More beer is drunk - thankfully we don't manage to find the spirits drawer above the mini-bar - and things get hazy as we watch a parade of interminable Japanese pop bands on TV.

"𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ?", says Brian incredulously, as the jangling nonsense drones on...

🔸🔸 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎 🔸🔸

🔸This is promo day for Placebo, which involves sitting in their record company's building being quizzed and photographed for six hours straight.

By 5pm, more cracks are showing in certain members of the band, than in others.

In a sealed-off room, the trio are facing cameras for a Japanese TV music show. While Molko is a picture of professional behaviour, Steve Hewitt is less amenable.

Asked how Placebo got together, the drummer claims that they met in a Sumo wrestling club - "𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒, ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛."

The most withering moment comes when the interviewer asks what made Placebo start their first tour of 2001 in Japan.

"𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑒", replies the drummer blithely, before Brian sweeps in and answers the question nicely. Thank the Lord.

This evening, we commit yet another cardinal sin by drinking solely in the bar of our hotel, Placebo are knackered and plagued by the ever-present jet-lag, which makes you feel like you're not entirely in the right dimension and guarantees waking up at around 6 a.m. The Tokyo show is tomorrow night and they are cautious about burnout.

So we sit for hours, learning that Molko found his wallet under his bed where he drunkenly kicked it, and talking about the late INXS frontman, Michael Hutchence ("𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑤𝑎𝑠 "𝐹**𝑘 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐**𝑡", remembers Molko fondly) and toilet doors being broken down on cocaine users.

While Molko inevitably takes centre stage even in bar chats, it's generally because he has interesting stuff to say rather than because he demands such status or talks over others. Stefan tends to sit and listen with a faint smile on his face, occasionally throwing in witty comments which sometimes get lost in the mlÎe due to the quietness of his voice. Steve, on the other hand, adopts something of a protective charade, often attempting to intimidate with a comical fixed stare. Challenge him, however, and he tends to laugh like a drain.

The topic of tomorrow night show keeps cropping up. It is, after all, their first gig in months.

"𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟", says Brian, "𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 17 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠".

Is there any chance at all that Placebo might be as ropy as f**k?

"𝑁𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑦", protests Hewitt. "𝐼𝑡'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑟'𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡-𝑏𝑜𝑥".

The evening is relatively subdued. At one point, Molko succeeds in getting the bar's management to change the music.

"𝑃ℎ𝑖𝑙 𝐶𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒", he explains to a smiling barman, while munching on some steak cubes. "𝐻𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑠 𝑛𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑢𝑠".

Collins' sonic twattery is promptly replaced by Janet Jackson's. Time for bed.

Photo credit: Pat Pope

🔸🔸 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 🔸🔸

🔸Japan is currently in the process of rebuilding a shattered economy - a fact that surely contributes to 365,000 citizens killing themselves every year. Stefan calculates that this works out as one per minute. It doesn't quite, but it's scary enough. To put it into perspective. The Samaritans latest figures suggest that around 6,700 people committed suicide in the UK and Ireland in 1998.

Japan's people are hoping that their imminent new president will speed up the process of restoring the country to its former financial glory.

Unfortunately, a knackered economy doesn't mean things become cheaper. Companies simply make less products and up their prices. This could have something to do with today's lunch in the hotel's priciest restaurant coming to an obscene £500 for five people.

"𝑂ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒", laughs Molko as dishes and bowls are brought out. "𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑑."

Eating Japanese is a tricky business. There's a fair degree of hesitation involved - you don't want to do the wrong thing.

Chuckles Brian, peering at wafer-thin slices of raw beef:

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝐸𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑢𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑤?. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑎𝑤."

Then the bowls of steaming broth are activated, and pennies start to drop. Sensing first-timers, one of the waiters explains everything. You take the beef slices and dip them into the bowls until cooked, then into various sauces, amid a frenzy of noodles, tofu chunks, vegetables and Kirin beer.

"𝑂ℎ 𝑤𝑜𝑤", exclaims Brian after his first mouthful. "𝐼𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠, ℎ𝑢ℎ?"

We start yapping about Japanese culture and its seedier underbelly. Foot fetishism, for a start.

"𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡-𝑗𝑒𝑟𝑘", states Molko. "𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑦".

Another bizarre tradition is allegedly the selling of schoolgirl's underwear from vending machines.

"𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ", says Molko. "𝐴𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒".

As some confusing Japanese pickles arrive (which look like chocolate, but taste like fish, then beef) Placebo confess that they have yet to discover much of Tokyo's covert perversion.

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠", admits Brian. "𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝐽𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑠𝑜 𝑎) 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏) 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑘𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒 𝑉𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑡".

As for drugs in Japan, you may as well stick to ginseng bottles during your stay.

"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑔 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑠𝑜𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒", declares Molko. "𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑔-𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒".

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒", notes Stefan. "𝐴𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑".

That could well be Placebo's Tokyo mansions out of the window, then. What's their drug policy in 2001?

"𝑄𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑄𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦", says Brian. "𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒? 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑖𝑛'𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 21 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑'𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑠".

"𝐴𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡", pipes up Stefan, "𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤".

Photo credit: Pat Pope

🔸Tonight's gig takes place at the On Air venue, in the busling Shibuya - a district which looks exactly as you'd expect Tokyo to look, complete with all the 'Blade Runner' trimmings besides floating cars. Placebo admirably spend all afternoon rehearsing on the venues stage. In fact, they spend too long rehearsing. By the time they take to the stage, Molko can feel his voice starting to weaken.

The 1,500-odd teenage fans present have paid £40 a ticket to see this, which only ups the pressure. Hopefully, they haven't paid an extra fee for the interesting locker system, in which kids seal away their possessions until after the show.

The big myth about Japanese audiences is that they are ludicrously reserved, but they bounce around like most audiences as Placebo hit the stage - save any kind of stage-diving activity.

As Stefan put it earlier:

"𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒, 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝐵𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛! 𝐵𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛! 𝐸𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒! 𝐸𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒!".

Can't say that phrase audibly crops up, but there is a slightly weird low-level hum in-between tracks, which some bands might misinterpret as a lukewarm reaction.

Right now, Brian Molko is more worried about his voice falling apart. It finally does - not so you'd notice, but enough to force Placebo to cut their otherwise impressive set short by 20 minutes after Pure Morning. There's no Teenage Angst or Nancy Boy.

Placebo walk dejectedly back upstairs to their dressing room, which is on a balcony overlooking the venue. There they stay for a good half-hour. Anyone connected with them who ventures inside walks out with an awkward expression on their face.

Molko finally surfaces when the seemingly fulfilled fans have left. In an hour, we will go out for a low-key meal with the gig's promoters - who might well be pissed off with the abbreviated set but are clearly men of honour. Right now, the frontman is leaning on the balcony, visibly gutted. Down below, people are clearing up the rubbish.

"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒", ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑓***𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑖𝑔".

Bizarrely enough, this is the only tantrum Brian Molko has thrown in the last 72 hours. And, for once, you can hardly begrudge him it.

(𝐾𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔!, 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ 10, 2001)

🔻 🔻 🔻 🔻

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