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1st December 2002
I raise my hat to Dawn and Julie
HOW EXCITING that Taboo, the musical in which I'm currently appearing (book now!) got four nominations at the What's On Stage Awards on Friday. I'm afraid I wasn't at the ceremony because the previous night I trudged off to Brunel University at Uxbridge to play a very dry gig. Let's just say there were more people at my first birthday party, which I don't recall, and lets hope there are more at my funeral!
Anyway, there was an auction at the What's On Stage Awards to which I gave a Phillip Treacy topper, which fetched £1,000. It was purchased by the ever-financially bountiful and supportive Dawn and Julie. Who? You might ask. Well, these two ladies have attended every single Taboo performance I have done and have been to almost every country I have DJ-ed in or sung in over the past few years. They fascinate the cast and it is often asked: where do they find the money? Perhaps they could enter the Guinness Book Of Records for attending the most Boy George events. They would almost certainly win hands down. Unless I competed against them.
Moving on, you know I mentioned the bare bottomed chap in the latest Lacoste TV ad? Well, buy this month Dazed And Confused magazine and you will (outside of a gay mag) see the first - I think - full frontal nude ad for a male perfume. The fashion house Yves St Laurent promoting its M7 smelly has gone all the way and this ad (again for male perfume) has gone all the way.
The male species is well and truly an object of sexual desire but one must ask again who these homoerotica ads are aimed at. Are women turning men into sex objects getting their own back or has the gay stylist being given carte blanche?
I mean, on the cover of this week's Attitude magazine, Kylie Minogue appears with her stylist William Baker.
It looks as though behind every successful diva or pop group there is now a gay stylist who secretly wants to wear that frock and absolutely knows how to pick it. Even Attitude, which regularly does naked issues where the latest boy band get their kit off for a nation of easily-pleased queens, never shows any rude bits. Oh dear, I'm sounding like my mother but you know what I mean.
Actually, I prefer an element of surprise and think most men or women look far better with a bit of clothing covering there modesty because it retains the element of surprise and lets the imagination run wild. Mind you, I don't have one of those bodies I'd want to be flaunting but then I hate beaches and sun because it limits one's wardrobe and I'm a"get your kit on" type of queen. Plus , the sun does the old skin no favours.
TALKING of doing nobody any favours supermodel Giselle had the bad taste to swish along a catwalk recently in fur and was successfully hijacked by PETA, the anti-fur fanatics.
The return of fur to fashion has to be the saddest and most ruthlessly exploitative recurring nightmare and with all the fantastic and convincing alternatives, there really is no excuse. Some years back Naomi Campbell appeared in an ad for PETA with the slogan "I'd rather go naked then wear fur" only to be seen later donning a fur coat.
For Heaven's sake, I was approached by Burger King for the use of Karma Chameleon and the money was more then a year's work but there is no way I would let them use my music in an ad for slaughtered animal products.
These Supermodels don't get out of bed for less then £1,000 or more a day, so don't tell me they're doing it for the money.
8th December 2002
Instant karma has lingered on
HAVING explored most of the religious groups, walked on hot coals and hugged trees, I can honestly say that, while I respect everyone's religous leanings, I have become very cynical when I hear anyone claiming they are spiritual. Over the past few years, how many celebrities have we heard say, "I'm a very spiritual person"? Myself included, but I wasn't selling my latest yoga video at the time.
Most people turn to Eastern religions after a time of crisis - it's a bit like the old saying "you can't sing the blues unless you've had them". And religions like Buddhism do teach us to be responsible for our actions here on Earth as opposed to waiting for redemption in the clouds.
Buddhism teaches us that Heaven and Hell are right here on Earth and Karma - which simply translates as action - is instant, just like John Lennon told us in his song back in the Sixties. I certainly believe that true spirituality is in the mundane. It's as basic as how you purchase a pint of milk or a newspaper or, more importantly, how you treat people.
Of course, none of us is perfect and it is inevitable that from time to time we mess up. Only the other night I met a nice Irish chap who told me he had met me one night in the West End when I obviously felt far from spiritual. "I'd been a fan of yours for years and came up to you and you were rude," he lamented, adding: "I hope you were drunk."
I probably was rude. I'm not the kind of celebrity who walks about London with burly security. I find they attract more attention and trouble - a bit like those hideous stretch limos that make sure you can't possibly arrive unnoticed. But being unprotected and accessible comes with a price and most people don't realise that I have to live my life being shouted at, abused and hounded. Mostly I accept this as the price I pay for looking the way I do and choosing the career I have. But then you get people just walking towards you, sometimes in gangs, and saying things like "There's that queer" and you can imagine how one tires of that.
So there are days when it gets a little too much and I snap. Which brings me to my punching incident with Mr Andy Thompson, who managed the Sweet Suit club and sued me for breaking his nose. We settled out of court and I am sadly not allowed to say how much he got for his trauma.
Now, I hear, he is appearing on an LWT TV programme, Celebrities Behaving Badly. I wonder if he will be paid for his trouble? I have kindly been asked to give my side of the story. Actually, I have no interest in appearing or seeing him again, even if you paid me the ridiculous amount I paid him, I'd rather it went to the Fire Brigade.
Contrary to what was printed in the media, the incident was not unprovoked and I had DJ'd for the club on its opening night for a very reduced fee and had to wait two weeks to get my money, despite pulling in a huge crowd. But I never moan about money when I have agreed a deal and still charge less than most high-profile DJs - despite the fact I could trade on my past and rake it in.
More importantly, I have never used the line "Don't you know who I am?" I joke with friends and say, "This never would have happened in the Eighties," but only in private. I have a very realistic attitude towards where I am in my career and don't suffer too many delusions.
So my karma, for punching Mr Thompson, has been settled in cash terms but will be his for raising the matter again? More interesting was chatting to Mo from EastEnders the other night. She was a riot and the salt of the earth. I'd love to put her in the ring with Mr Thompson.
15th December 2002
Raising a stink simply isn't cool
WHILE I'm sure there are plenty of folk out there who have faced huge disappointment when meeting me for the first time, meet anyone on the wrong day and, like the old song goes, "First impressions are lasting impressions".
As you can see, I'm in a reflective mood and there's a theme here. So, there I am, swinging it down at Nag, Nag, Nag, and I spot this trying-to-not-look-cool, cool-looking chap, whom I recognise as Chris Cunningham, video-maker and genius for the avant garde and obscure of mind. He passes me and I ask: "Are you Chris Cunningham? I love your work; you're really clever." He replies: "Sorry about the stink bomb." I'm confused, until he explains that at a recent gig, at Sahara Nights in King's Cross, he got a friend to let off a stink bomb while I was spinning tunes.
I didn't bother asking why, or actually remember, but suddenly what I thought was a cool dude turned into a playground prankster.
"Oh," I replied. "You're far more shocking than I realised." As I walked away, I thougth "how sad" and then remembered that he had shot a video for Madonna. So, most people have a price and that means they can't be that cool.
He shot the video for Frozen, in which Madonna writhes in the desert looking like a designer witch. Tales of him being irreverent towards the great feudal "Madge-sty" of pop are legendary, but bow down to her he did.
I always think of Madonna as some stinking-rich queen in the Dark Ages, clicking her fingers and demanding: "Bring me the top video-maker, the hottest remixer." Money, not talent, really talks. I'm not suggesting Madonna is bereft of talent, but she isn't Nina Simone or Joni Mitchell.
So what exactly was Monsieur Cunningham rebelling against when he got his friend to let off a stink bomb? The fact that in some foolish eyes I represent the Establishment? Or does he have a hang-up about hearing Sonny and Cher's pop classic Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves. Or was it Shirley Bassey that sent him over the edge? Some people, clearly, have no sense of humour and that is what is killing pop - and that, if nothing else, is worth battling against.
GREAT - or is it bitter? - minds think alike. Last week, Joni Mitchell, the greatest songwriter on Earth, issued a statement accusing Madonna of destroying music. A little harsh, perhaps, but Joni is not one for chewing the cud. Madonna responded, saying she was hurt because Joni was one of her idols. We must remember that Joni has also said, "The Beatles had a great sense of melody but they were basically cornball" and "Billie Holiday is the only singer worth her salt". OK, Billie is a hard act for anyone to follow, and I agree with Joni's other view that "the music business is a cesspit".
TALKING of cesspits, what a drama I faced the other day at Apogee, the eatery situated next to Taboo. They have three floors but the waiters can't quite manage the stairs at certain times of the day and I was told: "You can't just walk in here and sit anywhere." No matter that since opening the show their business has boomed. I make it my business to be polite to waiters or waitresses because it is a hideous job, but maybe they should change the name to Apology becuase they are quite literally biting the hand that feeds them.
Oh well, there are other cafes in the area, and they were more than congenial at Bella Pasta around the corner where the waitress told me: "We love people like you coming in." Thank heavens someone thinks I'm cool!
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