Dear Diary – PervyHotelChats.com

Up in Manchester I had to spend a night at a hotel. I arrived at our booked hotel, only to realise that my room had no windows that could be opened, it didn’t have a balcony either – I mean, fucking hell, where am I supposed to smoke? On the pavement? I don’t think so. Kenny liked it, so I let him stay behind. Besides, he saw a guy in the lobby that he thought he recognised from TV that he’d like to pull. I excused myself, got back in the car and was driven across town to another hotel that actually had windows and a balcony outside the room. Nevermind that it’s zero degrees, windy and grotty (this is Manchester for you) – I need my herbal cigarettes without being bothered.

So, after the gig I had a smoke or two, wandered down to the lobby to see if anything tasty wanted to be ravaged by George Michael. With my luck – it’s great being gay these days, especially if you’re me – a cutie was already eyeing me when I came down. I think I saw him at the gig. How he found me I’ve no idea – but I like persistence. I went over to him and said, “Hi. Up for it?” and he said “Your room or mine?” Being gay is ace. Had this been a woman I’d have gotten a slap across the face. I took him to my room, we did our thing and instead of kicking him out as I usually do, we started talking.

He was my age and exceptionally intelligent. Almost more intelligent than me. We didn’t waste any time having an intelligent conversation, however. Instead we were discussing – well – sex. What worked, what didn’t work, what was enjoyable, what was a waste of time, what was awesome, what was boring etc. It started out somewhat innocent, until an hour later words, phrases, bodyparts and adjectives bounced back and forth between us like a ping-pong ball. In the end he started laughing and said:

“This must be such a hilarious conversation to listen in to!”

And I said: “Yeah, I suppose! What do you reckon people would pay to listen?”

And he said: “Oh, this’ll probably end up at PervyHotelChats.com”

At this point we were so turned on by our own dirty mouths that we had to have another shag – but even after round two I wasn’t falling asleep. PervyHotelChats.com? I thought what if it exists? What if I’m on there? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had a pervy chat at a hotel, staff know where I’m staying, they could easily bug the hotel room. Even though I came here by chance, they’ve still had some hours to prepare when I was at MEN. Shit.

So I got up, started up my laptop and logged onto the wireless network. I typed it in. The wireless was slow. It was searching, I was sweating, my paranoia played tricks on me and I was half-expecting to find my own little section. “George Michael”, “Pete Doherty”, “Everyone Else”. Then the site came up. “Firefox can’t find the server at www.pervyhotelchats.com”. It doesn’t exist. Phew.

Thankfully still trusting hotels.

George x

Dear Diary – I spoke to Andrew

This is the thing. I’ve said – in public – many times now that I want Andrew to join me onstage for “Last Christmas” at Wembley on the 17th. Or 15th. I don’t know yet. Whatever. I did this because I thought Andrew may have read about it and given me a call about it – but no. I should have known better than to think Andrew would let an opportunity to make me beg pass him by.

I generally never beg, but I eventually jumped to the conclusion that I was almost ready to do it today. After a fantastic ego-wank up in Manchester, I felt on an amazing high, woke up at three in the afternoon and thought, “Today, George, you will pick up the phone and call Andrew.” So I fired up a spliff, dialled his number and waited. The conversation went something like this;

Andrew: The Ridgeley residence, Andrew speaking!

Me: Hi Andrew. George here. How are you?

Andrew: George, huh? Have you got a question for me?

I could practically hear him grin through the phone. He was enjoying the whole situation too much. 

Me: I do. What have you got planned for December?

Andrew: Oh, you know, he teased. – This and that, you know I need to be booked far in advance these days, with all the offers I get.

At this point I was gritting my teeth.

Me: I know you don’t like the public and the business and you swore it would never happen again after Rock in Rio in ‘91, but I’m getting ready to round off my first tour for fifteen years – the first doing my own material for eighteen – and as it’s 25 years since we started out together, I thought maybe we could round off together too. You know, with you joining me onstage for “Last Christmas” at Wembley on the 17th of December, for instance.

There was a long silence.

Andrew: It’s 24 years, George.

Me: What?

Andrew: It’s 24 years since 1982, not 25.

I did a quick count, and by George, he’s right. Shit. How embarrassing.

Me: It’ll be like the old days, I added, pretending the past 20 seconds hadn’t taken place. – I’ll sing, you’ll pretend to play… I mean, you’ll play the guitar and pretend to si… I mean, sing backing vocals and stuff. Don’t you remember, Andrew? We were every little hungry school girl’s pride and joy? And we had such a kick, didn’t we, buddy?

Andrew: Your pitch kinda sucks, mate, he laughed. – I’ll think about it and call you tomorrow.

So that was embarrassing. I couldn’t even go online and pick up a casual fuck today. Fingers crossed.  

Nervously,

George x 

Dear Diary – My CV

I was wondering, right, what my curriculum vitae would look like if I decided to do – say – apply for a position in someone else’s band. Or whatever.

It’s not like I’ve ever actually had to write a CV before, so bear with me; Here is my first attempt.

I wonder if I’d get hired.

Love,
George

 

George Michael – Curriculum Vitae

 

Highlights

• A successful, bilingual (English/Greek/French) entertainer specialising in soulful Pop/Rock Music

• Duets with nationally and internationally recognised musicians like Elton John, Aretha Franklin, Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Whitney Houston, Tony Bennett and Paul Young released variously around the world

• Producer and engineer as well as ability to play the piano, drums, bass and guitar

• Exclusive opportunity to work with James Bond musician David Arnold for last ever album, Patience (unless you could Twenty Five)

• First white dude to duet with soul legend Aretha Franklin

• Released only album in history to spawn six top three singles; Older

• Fronted Queen and hailed as the most successful performance at the Freddie Mercury Tribute. Later offered role of vocalist in Queen
  

• Moved permanently to Highgate, London, in June 2004 to pursue outlandish lifestyle

 

Employment

1987 – present George Michael – The Solo Enterprise
Songwriter, vocalist, producer, engineer, wanker, enthusiastic follower of modern chemistry, creating outstanding lyrics.

1982 - 1986 Wham!
Songwriter and lead vocalist. Also played various instruments, did producing, engineering and similar.

1979 – 1981 The Executive
Freelance drum and bass player.

 

Portfolio

A selection of albums from my portfolio are available on www.georgemichael.com The available albums are:

• Fantastic
• Make It Big
• Music From The Edge of Heaven
• Wham! The Final
• Greatest Hits of Wham!
• Faith
• Listen Without Prejudice Vol. I
• Five Live
• Older
• Ladies and Gentlemen, The Best of George Michael
• Songs From The Last Century
• Patience
• Twenty Five

Personal Details

Email: george@georgemichael.com
Telephone: 0800-HUNK
Nationality: English/Greek
Date of Birth: 25 June 1963

 

Personal recommendations vouching for my ability and integrity as a musician available on request from: Elton John; Stevie Wonder; Aretha Franklin; Smokey Robinson; and Tony Bennett.

Dear Diary – Julio’s Whisper

I’m appalled. I’m horrified. I can’t believe it.

I taped Jonathan Ross on my Sky Box yesterday – as I had other things to do last night, without going into details – and decided to watch it back this afternoon. Jack Black, Julio Iglesias, Ben Affleck. Interesting enough guests. I was kind of paying attention as I was surfing for porn replying to some emails on my laptop, then Julio came on and I tried paying attention to what he said but as his accent is sorta thick, I had trouble. And to be honest I wasn’t that interested in what he had to say.

So, Alex had just brought me a gorgeous moccha frappucchino from Starbucks, I was sucking along (ahem) and suddenly I hear, “I’m never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm…” I looked up quicker than if someone had said “Quick, Colin Farrell naked!” and spewed out the sip I’d just taken of my chilled coffee out onto my laptop screen. It was Julio fucking Iglesias singing my fucking song! The song that I wrote in 1980 when I was 17 years old. Seventeen! Julio is like… older. Than me, even! “Careless Whisper” with an accent is even worse than “Careless Whisper” with Smokey Robinson (sorry Smokey – but you should have been put behind bars for musical murder that night!). Good lord… 

Hear a clip of it here.

I thought, “I’m speechless. I’m… I’m… I’m… I’m without words. There should be rules and regulations against this sort of stuff. The worst thing is, someone gave the go-ahead to put this on an album. Surely it wasn’t me?” Then Julio said some really nice things about me and my “masterpiece” and suddenly I felt a bit bad for thinking such things – but in reality, it sounded like… something I wouldn’t do. Unless I was seventeen again, in which case I’d probably do it. Though without the accent. And with knowledge of how to perform the song properly without making it sound like something off the soundtrack of “Blind Date”. 

George – still in shock

Dear Diary – This Knobby Chick

Right, this is the thing.

I’ve met Knobby. We have a history. A long time ago, but she knows who I am, I know who she is, we exchanged sarcasms about three years ago. It stopped, suddenly, after I agreed to an interview, set it up, and my manager behaved like a bit of a twat and put an end to that. And everything else. I apologised on his behalf, thought things were OK between us, but never saw her again.

To be honest, I didn’t care much. I hardly even noticed, to be honest. What I did notice, however, was that the spewing of acid sarcasm was gone from my forum. Six months later I shut it down – for reasons totally unrelated to this. I used to read the comments, amongst many others, and though I didn’t exactly miss them I took notice. Then the times of blogs came. I found Knobby’s blog. Read it when I thought Kenny wasn’t looking – until I caught him doing the same and we started reading it together.

What’s this with Kevin Spacey anyway? Is he more interesting than me? Surely not. He’s not an intelligent as me either, and Tony Blair seems to like him (bitch). Bill Clinton too. There’s been a lot about Kevin Spacey on Knobby’s blog. Even in the middle of my scandals, when I should be getting all the attention, there’s a Kevin Spacey post. What’s he got to do with anything? I don’t care about him, and yet I know more about him than I care to – just in case there’s a mention of me in the Kevin Spacey posts. There seldom is, but I’ve noticed some comparisons. Like he does more things than I do. I couldn’t have that – so I decided to go on tour. That should show’em. He’s doing a play for 3 months, I’m doing a tour for 3 months. Same thing! Now leave me alone.

Kenny suggests that I’m obsessing over this matter, but I do feel that because the Knobby character was first dedicated to me, focus should stay on me. Jesus. Come on, honestly, I may not do professional stuff all the time, but you can’t say it’s ever boring being a fan of mine. How many times haven’t I had my fans going into a frenzy this year alone? Newspaper headlines, releasing songs to the radio without telling anyone, springing a tour on them just like that – where’s my appreciation?

It’s especially during rants like this that Kenny looks at me and says, “George. Darling. It don’t matter, dude.” But it does. I feel deprived. I do get like 70% of the attention on Knobby’s Blog, but where’s the other 30%? Kevin Spacey, other people and topics that’s got nothing to do with George Michael. I ask myself, I really do, “How can it be!?” So I decided to go public and say – as Knobby’s Blog has said for years – “Talk less and sing more.” Now if I do that, shut up and sing, will that earn me the other 30% as well? Or do I have to switch to Remarkable’s Blog instead? I don’t understand what the fuck he means most of the time, but I’ll go there just to spite the Knob. Give 30% of my attention to someone else – give a feel of what that feels like. Hah!

George – heading over to Knobby’s.