“We just do what we feel like,” said Rob as he marched off stage and straight past me after a sold out and heaving La Machine du Moulin Rouge in Paris. I run up the stairs and round the corner to find him in the green room necking a bottle of vodka while people fight for his attention. Keith walks in behind me to an onslaught of high-fives, affirming salutes, bottles of champagne popping all over the place. I need to do my interview before things get too messy.