Andy Carthy, a.k.a Mr. Scruff, arrives every year in Cambridge with his outlandishly large record collection, picks a few out for six hours, and leaves audiences content and a little more musically informed. Rather predictably, Carthy did exactly this last Saturday.

With his trademark set-up of two screens displaying his own cartoon visuals, Carthy cut a rather diminished figure in front of his vinyl mountain. The night really kicked off with Dennis Brown’s ‘Breaking Down the Barriers’, the Junction’s ample sound system serving Brown’s political barnstormer well. The mainly middle-20s crowd seemed to visibly enjoy the ear-tingling bass from the speakers.

Carthy then proceeded to expose his Mancunian roots, navigating his way through some classic 90s rave and Chicago house. Between them, however, he dropped his infectious ‘Get A Move On’, still sounding as fresh as ever despite widespread TV exploitation.

All night the crowd moved between the dancefloor, the smoking area and buying hot cups of tea, the sort of health and safety infringement that any manciple worth his salt wouldn’t allow. Dancefloor numbers reached a peak when Carthy unleashed ‘Chipmunk’ and the humorous ‘Fish’, both from his defining LP Keep it Real. The highlight of the night soon followed with a collective karaoke to Hot 8 Brass Band’s cover of ‘Sexual Healing’. Vociferous and possibly misplaced outbursts of Gaye’s famous chorus line rang out.

Carthy’s subsequent move to jungle visibly thinned the crowd. So much so that when Roots Manuva’s ‘Witness’ blazed out, only a dispersed dance floor was there to appreciate it. As the night drew to a close Carthy held up a vinyl he’d hurriedly pulled from the mountain behind him. The instantly recognisable police sirens of ‘Ghost Town’ rang out to a festive frenzy. The Mr Scruff experience eventually drew to a close with Little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’, arousing spins and jigs from all those left.

As the music stopped, Carthy rather humbly entered the audience and soaked up such incisive comments from an adoring crowd as "fucking hero!" One couldn’t help but be impressed. Mr. Scruff nights are without question marathons, but they’re wholly rewarding ones.