EMMA LEE I've been in a bit of a nostalgic mood again recently. It all started when I caught the bus into the city and I was playing one of my favourite games - 'what are people listening to on their iPods'? From somewhere on the top deck I could definitely hear Irreplaceable by Beyoncé.

EMMA LEE

I've been in a bit of a nostalgic mood again recently. It all started when I caught the bus into the city and I was playing one of my favourite games - 'what are people listening to on their iPods'? From somewhere on the top deck I could definitely hear Irreplaceable by Beyoncé. And when I turned round to locate where the ballad was coming from, it was rather an unlikely source - a fashionably scruffy indie student boy. Bet he cranks up the Razorlight when his friends are around.

Another time I caught a rather serious and sensible-looking businessman listening to Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper - see how deceptive appearances can be?

When I lived in King's Lynn I would often get the bus over to Norwich, and there wasn't really any need to take my own personal stereo with me - I'd just listen to everyone else's.

I remember on one trip a guy spent almost the entire hour-and-a-half listening to Rebel Rebel by David Bowie over and over on a loop.

At one point he obviously forgot himself and suddenly exclaimed "hot tramp, I love you so" to the amusement of quite a few passengers, including me.

There's a whole money-spinning industry built up around the "guilty pleasures" concept.

There's discos and compilation albums featuring songs that you shouldn't really like because they're kitsch - but they're cool because they're uncool, if that makes sense.

Thinking about it makes me wish that what was officially Norwich's best club night ever (well according to me, at least) still existed.

The prospect of a Con Brie-O disco used to have me and my friends hyperventilating with excitement.

To be fair, we did subsist mostly on a diet of sugar and food colourings back then too, so that might have also had something to do with it.

The playlist at Con Brie-O would include anything and everything - Betty Boo, the theme from Ski Sunday (you can probably guess what the dance moves that accompanied it were - there was minimal imagination involved) and I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany (back in the days before Girls Aloud got their grubby mitts on it).

There were drawing competitions - one friend went home with a Peter Andre doll which, in a post-modern ironic way, served as the fairy on the top of our Christmas tree several years running and I can dimly remember being a runner up in an impressions competition - I believe I did Sean Connery.

Despite that success, Bobby Davro didn't really need to lose any sleep.

As for my guilty iPod pleasures? May I confess to being partial to a bit of Meat Loaf, ELO, the Carpenters and Bright Eyes by Art Garfunkel (my eyes are misting up just thinking about it).

But actually, I don't feel remotely guilty about liking them.