The sound of Duran Duran’s sing-a-long favourites rang out across the desert last night as the pretty boys of ‘80s rock proved they’ve ‘still got it’, minus the shoulder pads.

With a full moon, fiery Mars and countless stars shining down on us, Duran Duran belted out tunes such as The Wild Boys, Rio and Girls on Film, catapulting the audience – most of whom must have been orbiting 40 (not a teeny bopper in sight!), back to an era when teenagers awoke to posters of the five British Midlanders plastered all over their bedroom walls.

It was a flash-tastic, energetic performance – even better than in the 80s, according to one Duranie who also saw them in 1984 – followed by the prettiest fireworks I’ve seen in a long time.

Which leads me to a confession: I think I might be a Duranie myself. Twenty-five years too late. At school, it was my great friend Joanne who set her sights on becoming Mrs Le Bon (move over Yasmin, Joanne-Joanne sounded just like Duran Duran, we reasoned). I was a Culture Club chick. But in adult life, I’ve seen D-D twice they’re so fantastic live (muffled video clip below!).

I also realised three other things at the Rugby Sevens venue last night:

– Firstly, wearing heels to totter around in sand is not a good idea – you just end up walking on tip-toes.

– Secondly, there is no denying I’m getting on a bit. Okay, old. Simon Le Bon – who I remember for his boyish face, puckered rouged lips and knee-knocking baggy silk trousers – is still a sweetie, but now looks like George Michael crossed with Ricky Gervais. John Taylor, meanwhile, appears to be morphing into Keith Richards.

– Thirdly, a height restriction should have been imposed on the audience. The 8ft man just in front of me must have had the best view in the house, lucky chap! Though, actually, standing behind his towering silhouette worked in my favour, because the vacuum behind him was the perfect space for bopping around, even in heels.