Last week, after years of the best possible intentions, I finally managed to make my virgin visit down under to sunny Sydney. With Elton fully ensconced in a fortnight of antipodean touring and work to be done promoting our new teen comedy It’s a Boy Girl Thing, I was able to justify the trip while hoping to overcome the abject terror of having to spend nearly 24 hours trapped on a plane. So many of my globetrotting mates have been slobbering on for ages about the genius of Singapore Airlines. Justifiably so, as I find myself awash with joy at being cocooned within the hedonistic splendour of their first-class cabin. My most challenging decision is between Dom Pérignon and Krug. Hordes of Asian beauties fluff your pillows, and they even swab out the loos after every use. It’s the kind of service that reminds you of British Airways in the Eighties, long before it slid into the has-been it is today. By the time we touch down I am supinely happy. I find Sydney to be a magical place. Our hotel suite directly overlooks the iconic Opera House. Whoever commissioned the building of Sydney’s most famous landmark should be canonised. It anchors the entire city brilliantly. Why couldn’t we create a more enduring cultural or humanitarian edifice as a testament to British society’s advancement? My heart sinks when I think of the millions squandered over the construction of London’s dumpy Millennium Dome.
After a day’s recuperation from jet-lag I hit the streets. Auditions for the Aussie production of Billy Elliot The Musical are being held and I’m anxious to see how the local talent measures up. For two days I tramp up and down the streets en route to the theatre. The city is filled with bohemian delights, if you overlook an annoying overproliferation of shops selling opals and the dreaded didgeridoo. Sydney is a truly modern multicultural mix. The auditions turn out to be a pure delight. The level of talent truly astonishes, as I watch with awe while groups of young boys leap, flip and tap their little hearts out. We’ll have no trouble following up the success of the London production with little superstars like these.
On Elton’s only full day off between shows we have a fairly packed agenda. Despite a disdain for all things nautical, Elton is surprisingly ebullient at the prospect of taking me out for my first boat ride round Sydney harbour. The day gets off on the wrong foot as we are pursued by paparazzi on the short drive to the port. By the time we depart there are a gaggle of helicopters with long-lensed vermin hovering around us. The first 30 minutes of our journey are spent below deck in an attempt to evade the bastards. They finally leave us alone, and the rest of the day’s cruising melts away into an agreeable mix of romance and relaxation. It’s rare for us to get truly quiet moments like this and I wish it could go on ad infinitum. In the evening, we decide to slip into Sydney nightlife to attend a Move For Aids benefit for the Australian Aids Foundation. Tomorrow is World Aids Day and supporting events like this is a great way to help raise desperately needed funds and bolster awareness. The photographer James Houston and his stunning co-host Sarah Murdoch greet us warmly. Elton’s appearance tonight is a surprise and the room whips itself into a frenzy upon his arrival. Our great friend the director Baz Luhrmann goes on stage and introduces him. Amid raucous cheers Elton joins him on stage and pledges £100,000 for local initiatives.
The next day we wake to find Elton’s name splashed all over the papers but not quite as expected. ‘Elton’s Chunder Down Under’ reads one story, referring to his unexpected departure from stage during his big ‘Rocket Man’ piano solo in Brisbane. Another headline, ‘Up Yours! Says Elton’, is an interview response by Elton to Prime Minister John Howard’s anti-gay marriage stance. The newspaper coverage for World Aids Day stinks, despite the patronage of Sarah Murdoch at last night’s event. The Sydney Daily Telegraph has a measly quarter-page back on page 32 in the Opinion section. Rather ironically, the story is about fighting complacency in the war on Aids. The Australian also buries its coverage in the Opinion section with a small piece that marginalises the magnitude of a global epidemic by focusing solely on the growth of HIV infection within Australia’s gay community. Rather perplexingly, most of the Australian papers choose to give front-page coverage to the chronic illness of the lead singer of a group called The Wiggles. My mind boggles.
My return to London is smoothly expedited thanks to another luxurious 24 hours of Asian in-flight majesty. I’ve just about recovered from my jet-lag when the calm is interrupted by a call from a slightly irked Elton still down under. It seems that he and Robbie Williams are now in the same hotel, and in a moment of irresponsible juvenile delinquency Robbie has stupidly announced Elton’s room number to a concert audience. As a means of expressing his appreciation, Elton informs me that he has slipped a note under Robbie’s hotel-room door. The missive celebrates Take That triumphantly occupying both Number 1 positions in this week’s CD single and album charts. It reads ‘Dear Robbie. Take That — Number 1 Single and Album. Great result! Love Elton.’ Take that, Robbie, indeed!
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