Sigh.
Right, I’m quite intrigued, I must admit. If my life was anywhere as dramatic and interesting as the press makes it out to be, I’d be exhausted by now. This week alone I’ve been an alcoholic, a drug addict, narcoleptic and comatose – in addition to the usual liar, cheat and bad driver, of course. Wow. This is not bad even by my standards.
What’s the truth? The truth? The actuality, reality, sincerity, integrity, accuracy, correctness, exactitude, fidelity, veraciousness, veracity, TRUTH…!? I once sang, “I’ve no memory of truth” but that’s more to do with when I said what and when I said it – I do remember what happened hours/days/weeks ago. I had a spliff in the car. Big fucking deal. I was tired. It was three-thirty am for heaven’s sake. Was I comatose? Please. Would I be onstage the next day if I’d been seriously ill? Would I look like this [points to own impressively fit body] if I wasn’t well? I’ve never looked better, what’s wrong with ya?
I know what it is. I’ve seen these people. They’re unattractive, balding and overweight. I’m none of the above, however they tried to make out that I was. The balding incident was quite amusing. Good photoshop work, whoever it was. I have a full head of hair, thank you very much. I’m not overweight by anyone’s standards. Look at me, I look better now than when I was in my teens and twenties! If I could, I’d do myself! That’s how good I look. So fuck you all.
Anyway, looking forward to my Milan gigs. Buona sera di Milano.
George – the troubled star. x
