And I can understand my friend Lorraine thinking that. I had a Friday night residency at Le Beat Route. She was the glamorous receptionist. I’d arrive with my boxes of 80s floor fillers like this one, exuding club DJ cockiness. She was beautiful. Tumbling blonde tresses, masses of make up and long painted nails so, well, I could be forgiven for that initial impression. And yet, once we got to know each other, we realised that we were both just young twentysomethings trying to earn a little extra cash. Neither of us had any interest in the cheap drugs and even cheaper sex that attracted most people to Soho nightclubs. I saw her in Costa Coffee today and, thirty years on, she’s still lovely, gentle and demure. I couldn’t have been more wrong about her. Though I’m not sure she was quite so wrong about me.
She thought I was a tosser. I thought she was a slag.

- Mom and Dad m...7th Apr 2015
- This Bank Hol...6th Apr 2015
- If you find y...5th Apr 2015
- The most conf...4th Apr 2015
- The Accidenta...3rd Apr 2015
- The joy of be...2nd Apr 2015
- Shooting on a...1st Apr 2015
- Parky turns 80.31st Mar 2015
- I like your s...30th Mar 2015
- The only thin...29th Mar 2015
- The one radio...28th Mar 2015
- Where would y...26th Mar 2015
- I am sam.25th Mar 2015
- Richard III.24th Mar 2015
- I think Elton...23rd Mar 2015 prev next