THE REALITY OF playing in front of two thousand people hit me like a bucket of cold water as we headed for the stage. All those faces! Who was I kidding trying to get up there and pretend to be in a band? I stopped dead in my tracks, which, given I was wearing platform boots, wasn’t easy.

“Uh-nuh, no way, soldier,” Niki whispered in my ear. “Not on my watch.” He put a firm hand on my back and started pushing me toward the spotlights. “The show must go on, Rafeman. Your fans await.”

“Fans?” I squeaked. “I don’t have any fans.”

“You do now,” Niki said, and shoved me onstage.

I staggered into an amplifier and dislodged my wig, which fell offstage and disappeared down a black hole.

“Keep going!” Niki hissed. “They’ll never notice!”

We came into view and, at the sight of Niki Blister, the crowd erupted. Okay, most of them probably didn’t have a clue who Niki Blister was, or who he had been, but since Niki had made the station an offer to play last week, KRMY had been playing “Kangaroo Krush” nonstop. Plus, even if you’d never heard of Niki or “Kangaroo Krush”, there was no question that up there on the stage at the Rio was a genuine rock star. He looked incredible.

Niki strutted to the front of the stage and grabbed hold of the mic. “G’day, America!” he shouted. “How’re you goin’?”

As the crowd roared, two jets of silver glitter shot into the air. Niki glanced round to check Miller was in place and that The Changmeister was ready. With a last nod and smile to me, Niki turned back to the microphone.

“You might’ve heard this one before!” he shouted. “One, two, three, four!” Niki’s hand came down and the familiar intro to “Kangaroo Krush” rang out across the auditorium.

Niki Blister and The People were up and running.