It seems that R Kelly has been embraced into the high brow world of film for his sung soap opera of sorts ‘Trapped In the Closet’. The Independent Film Channel (IFC) has jumped all over the series and has chapters 1 - 22 streaming on their website. Funny? Bleeding hilarious actually. It’s quite possibly the campest, most narcissistic, strangest and weirdly gripping thing I’ve seen online. Naturally his, at times dubious take on the world filters through - but hey, if it’s good enough for the IFC, it’s worth a try.

Phew! It’s taken a while to recover from this seasons fashion fest which saw both Wood Wood and Henrik Vibskov take the CPH ‘scarves and skinnies’ look in a new direction, toning down the flouro and adding slightly more daring patterns to the mix. The apex of the week came from A/W’s hero Annhagen, whose flowing earthy pieces were both sensual and asexual. Vita Vass’ show also deserves a mention, forever working the quirkily functional. However it was Stine Goya (pictured), whose name punctuated most conversations, for her playfully daring show that smirked in the face of Scandinavian reserve whilst remaining quintessentially Dansk.

Werd. Daft Punk have once again turned their WD40 lubricated hands and metal clad faces to film. Electrorama is midnight movie-a-gogo with all the obligatory trimmings; stark (seemingly) midwest town, the desert, picket fences and one really hot car. The Daft essentials are all there; robots in place of a distant humanity, exceptionally good music and razor sharp iconography. In short, Sophia Coppola with a serious Kubrick fetish.

If you find yourself in Copenhagen over the next few days and fancy a little reprieve from the fashion week fallout and Henrik Vibskov scarves adorning the necks of all and sundry, visit The Room Project in Nikolaj Kunsthalle. Photographer Annette Merrild has taken to peering into middle class living rooms across the globe, revealing both a common thread (strangely TV) and latent differences – a picture of humanity without a single subject in the frame.

Wow. Paloma Faith has managed to blow me, and my burlesque related doubts, in to the ether. The first of her trilogy of nights at East London's Hoxton Bar blended repressed hedonism with refinement. Her voice has both the emotive tones of Ella Fitzgerald with range of Julie Andrews, whilst the resolutely modern songs unite soul brothers and monocle lovers alike. A good look by any standards.

Martin Creed’s current exhibition plays with his ongoing theme of understated humour and continues to leave some viewers with the nagging question: ‘Is that it?’ Gladly, once placed together the pieces resonate a complexity unseen when viewed individually. Creed uses multiple mediums including a flashing neon “Friends” sign (pun intended), a slowed down, black and white detail of sex from behind and strategically placed colossal ‘I’ girder. Beguiling to say the least.