Thursday August 3rd 2000

This week’s Most Hated Thing: men who spit loudly and manfully in public urinals. Why do they do it? Repressed foreplay for cottaging?

There are rumours circulating about certain band rules we have in Fosca. Yes, the one about the ban on trainers, long hair and facial hair is true. Every rehearsal, any band member caught “slumming it” has to run four laps of the car park chanting “Cleanse! Tone! Moisturise!” before we can begin. It keeps the grooming standards up for me and my doughty pop sentinels of love.

My dancefloor moves are entirely inspired by a lifetime of buying underwear in charity shops.

I’m reliably informed that Daphne & Celeste, the Proper Chart Pop Stars That Ageing Indie Boys Can Also Enjoy, have bought the Orlando album. I’m not sure to be more impressed by the fact they wanted to own a copy, or by the fact they found a shop selling it. Apparently they refer to me as “Dickly.” Which makes me sound like a cartoon dog with its own strip in the Daily Mail. Named and shamed!

I’ve had an interesting evening at the Borderline venue in London, where I had hoped to catch an excellent set from the Trembling Blue Stars, but instead found myself loitering at the back of the venue chatting to one David Gedge by the t-shirt stall. For some reason I got into a heated argument with him about which Altered Images songs The Wedding Present had covered. I was sure that, in addition to “Happy Birthday”, they had also recorded a version of “See Those Eyes”, while he insisted the track I was thinking of was in fact “Think That It Might”. “I should know, I was there”, he said with threateningly conclusive zeal.

Thankfully, I managed to swiftly change the subject by relating a recent comment my next-door-but-four-neighbour had made on listening to Fosca. They had maintained that my vocals strongly resembled, to their ears at least, “a gay David Gedge”.

“I don’t know about that”, the Gedgester retorted. “I mean, if “This Boy Can Wait” isn’t laced with latent homoeroticism, what is? Now push off, you’re casting a louche shadow on my Cinzano.”

And, do you know, he was right.