It’s no secret that my career isn’t quite what it was (lucky I’m rich!) so imagine my feeling of glee when I opened up my email account last Wednesday to find messages galore from all over the mainstream media. TV news programmes, radio shows, newspapers – even the Guardian! – were keen to have my views on…the end of the print edition of the New Musical Express.
What a cheek! I started work there in 1976 when I was 17; I left when I was 19 as, hilariously, I thought that people in their twenties who still wrote about music were ‘sad old men’. Since then I’ve had number one best-selling novels, won an Emmy and been condemned in the House of Commons for tranny-baiting. I’m now 58, in glorious decline but still a cracking little scribbler – and apparently all I’m good for is writing about something I stopped doing nearly forty years ago.
I don’t think I could put my hands on my ‘dander’ without a diagram, but there’s no doubt that it was way up on that day.
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