It's 1.30am on Saturday morning and Charli XCX is stomping across the stage at Heaven - the cheap and cheerful Tesco superstore of London gay clubs - backed by a couple of male strippers dressed like cops from a porn flick.
Her choice of attire is hardly demure either: lemon yellow quilted hot pants and a matching jacket left open to expose her bra - oh, and bright blue sunglasses. The six songs she performs for the tanked-up crowd are brash, catchy and exhilarating: pop music with bollocks, basically. Charli XCX looks and sounds like your most favourite pop star, the one you actually want to hang out with.
"Do you know what's really good about having some success now?" she tells me the day before in a trendy central London coffee shop. "You can just do all the shit you wanna do. For example, tomorrow night I'm having these strippers on stage and I said, 'I'm not having them unless they have gold star-shaped nipple tassels'. Before, people would never have taken me seriously. But now I can say, 'No, they need to have gold star-shaped nipple tassels because it mirrors the "Doing It" video and even if nobody else notices it, I will notice it and it's really important to me...and now everyone just says, 'OK cool, we understand, we'll sort it'".