Thursday, November 03, 2005


Slattery will get you nowhere.

Had I known as a boy what I know now, I would never have gone to Eton or started their bukkake society. I would almost certainly not have invested in "drug of the future" thalidomide, and there is no question whatsoever in my mind that my involvement in the Korean War did anything but harm. Hindsight is such a marvelous thing, and yet it causes me no end of pain; here are a few memories I'd rather not have:

- Sunnyvale, California. June 1953. Nat 'King' Cole offers me a three-year recording contract that would make me millions of dollars and an international heart-throb. I attempt to throttle Nat, trip down a set of stairs and abscond with his piano. We still keep in touch.

- Crawford, Texas. May 1987. George Bush Snr introduces me to George Bush Jnr. I, in turn, introduce George Bush Jnr to cocaine, alcohol and gay anal sex. He has since given up two of these.

- University College, Oxford. February 1960. Stephen Hawking, drunk and excited by some kind of time & space discovery, tries to get me to prove a theory of his with a cricket bat and his head. You've all seen the results.

- Croydon Airport, Croydon. October 1938. "Step off the plane and wave the paper, Neville. You'll look like a hero and be remembered forever."

It is unfortunate that all these remain cemented to my cerebellum and yet my encounter with Faye Dunaway, Jack Nicholson and a bottle of poppers remains tantalisingly out of reach.

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