Friday October 30th

Two people phone me up. One wants me to model some clothes on World Aids Day (Dec 1st) at some staged charity event at the Freedom Cafe, the other requires me to sit on a stage with Patrick Strangelove, who wants to recreate his bedsit on stage and fill it with “visitors”. I say yes to both of them, always keen to try anything once (except paedophilia and morris dancing). Meanwhile I turn down separate requests for Fosca to play at Club V and the Poetry Cafe. Something is definitely askew in my priorities.

Ron Davies, former Welsh Secretary, when asked if he was gay: “I don’t want to get into that…. I’m aware of some of the stories and rumours in the newspapers….”.

Which of course means “yes”.

My old chum Matthew Parris (see previous diary entries) goes on Newsnight and casually outs Peter Mandelson, which is odd because he once wrote a piece on how outing was wrong. Clearly something has happened to change his views. A landslide election defeat of his old party, perhaps.

It’s strange the way sexuality is still a source of great umbrage among some of the famous, bringing to mind the saying “I’d rather be black than gay… at least you don’t have to tell your mother.”

This week Tom Cruise successfully sues, Jason Donovan-style, against such allegations. Considering what happened to Mr Donovan’s career after the court case, I’d start to worry about my future if I was Mr Cruise. Libel seems so petty if it’s not trying to do some general good, like the McLibel case, individuals battling against gigantic corporate powerblocks rather than idle gossip about self-important individuals. I plead guilty to the latter, of course. I still prefer being talked about at all than being ignored, even if it means people going about with fabricated ideas of myself that are twisted so far from the truth it’s ridiculous. I have never liked Kula Shaker, your honour.

I buy a book to cheer me up after being massively disappointed by “Velvet Goldmine”: “Manic Street Preachers – In Their Own Words”. If anything, I sometimes prefer reading Manics interviews than listening to their actual music. I occasionally put Morrissey under this category too. Towards the back of the Manics book is a page on other individuals talking about the band.

And there I am.

Not a bad quote either. I come out of it looking pretty eloquent next to Martin “Boo Radleys” Carr’s “The Holy Bible album is fucking awesome.”

Simon Price tells me I’m in his forthcoming Manics book too. The danger here, is of just being known for knowing others, or saying something about others. But again, it’s supremely better from the narcissist’s point of view than not being known at all. I recently advertised I was selling some of my “Theaudience” rarities on the bands’s internet fan-mailing-list. And I got several people asking me if I was That Dickon Out of Orlando. Not Orlando fans, just wanting to know.

I wondered, does Camille Paglia get this when she tries to sell her theaudience singles? Then I realised the solution. Don’t buy singles by theaudience in the first place. Some days I feel like selling my entire “collection” of CDs and records and tapes. All I need are The Supremes Greatest Hits. That’s all anyone needs, really.

And then Cressida says, “oh, my therapist’s husband has heard of you.”

Mad Old Charlie in the cafe yesterday: “you’ve got a great image. Image is 90% of getting there.” Getting where, exactly? Smelling slightly in a cafe?

So while I’m languishing, parasitically, on the back of other bands’ books on the shelves at Waterstones, this week Tim’s at HMV in a similar contex. Twice. I treat myself and buy four brand new, just-released CD compilations in one day, most of the songs on all four being in my possession already, but they are great compilations:

Diana Ross and the Supremes – “40 Golden Motown Greats”
Galaxie 500 – “The Portable Galaxie 500”
The Style Council – “The Complete Adventures of…”
The Field Mice – “Where’d You Learn To Kiss That Way?”

And there’s Tim in the sleeve notes to the latter two. Well, the Style Council “history” booklet “Mr Cool’s Dream Edition 3” is only available at HMV, but he gets a mention in its Genuine Acclaim of Previous Editions section. He’s in the Field Mice booklet proper, though.

It’s a strange feeling when you buy a book and you discover you’re in it.
It’s a strange feeling when you buy four CD compilations and you discover two of them have your ex in the sleeve notes.

Tim and I meet up for the first time in a while and “take in a show”. Comedy at Madame Jo-Jo’s, the site of Club Arcadia two years ago. More ghosts. He says he’s just done an interview where he describes me as Hank Kingsley to his Larry Sanders. Hank Kingsley, in “The Larry Sanders Show”, is a buffoonish sidekick. I take this in the same way I’ve taken other back-handed compliments in the past, having been described in the press as both a “likeable prat” and “sexy cadaver”. To be fair, I’ve always thought of myself as a sort of cross between Frank Spencer and Andy Warhol. I do all my own stunts. With neurotic style.

I personally prefer to instead think of Tim as Kate Beckinsale to my Chloe Sevigny in “The Last Days of Disco”. I take abuse of all kinds passively, from so-called friends and indeed so-called strangers, but I’ll triumph gently and quietly in the end. You’ll see.

Pete out of Pete-and-Amelia phones me out of the blue. For the first time.”Pop quiz. We’re racking our brains here. What is Republica’s main hit? The biggest one?”

“Ready to Go”.

“You’ve made a roomful of people very happy. Bye.”

I’m good for something in this world.