I've been inhaling tobacco smoke into my lungs all my adult-life, and I have deeply enjoyed every single cigarette I've ever had.

Except for the ones when you're standing outside in the torrential rain and gale-force winds.

And the ones that make you feel sick in the morning.

Oh yes, and the ones when people stare at you like you've just committed first-degree murder by holding a lighter to your face.

But, last Friday, I decided that I'd like to live to be a centenarian - embarrass my great, great grandchildren with tales of how their great, great grandfather once upon a time used to write the clubbing column for his local newspaper, and then maybe throw some retro 2008 dance floor moves around my Zimmer frame at their weddings.

So in order to reach this ripe old age I decided it was probably best to end my love affair with the dreaded weed while I'm still a sprightly young whippersnapper, and last Friday I quit.

The only thing though was that when I got to the Purple Turtle at the beginning of the week for Happy Mondays, I didn't have a clue what to do with my hands.

Should I pat my thighs in an ultra-annoying manner? Should I drink twice as quickly as I did when I was a smoker? Or should I dance in a more exaggerated way making more use of my lonely hands than is socially acceptable?

These were the thoughts running through my head as I made my way to the dance floor to check it out.

Unfortunately, my subconscious decided for me and I ended up doing all three - and not realising how ridiculous I must have looked until the morning!

I danced - if you can call it dancing - like a deranged robotic indie-boy from days gone by, and I really didn't care what people thought of me.

It was just as well because throughout the night I saw a number of people having a giggle at my expense! These may not be the glory days of Monday nights at Purple Turtle a few years ago, when the place was over-run by down-to-earth Brookes students (Advice to management: sort some advertising up at the university campus!).

However, Monday was still pretty damn good.

The DJs masterfully began the night with slower tracks to set the tone, and then slowly but surely altered the genres of music up until midnight when they cracked out the best danceable indie and electro there is to be heard - unlike other clubs I've been to where the DJs have clearly have never heard about the idea of gradual progression through the course of their set and just play a mish-mash of sounds, much to the confusion of the crowd.

Here at Purple Turtle, midnight comes and the two pied pipers of Oxford town tempt party goers on to the floor with ease.

I saw posters advertising next week's Happy Mondays with an exclusive single launch party for a hot new band on the scene Hush the Many (Heed the Few), supported by local scampsters' Tristan & The Troubadours.

I'm reckoning this will pack the place out and make it a night to remember so if you're lucky enough to be able to go out on Monday night then get down to the Purple Turtle.

Towards the end of the night, my craving to find a pot of nicotine at the end of a giant carcinogenic rainbow floated away - and I realised I was having far too much fun to be thinking of such things.