I Want Your Sex

Hmm, smells a bit like a two day old shish kebab

I'm going to tell you something. And it may be quite shocking. And I'll understand if you don't want to come on my blog anymore. But this is the thing. I like George Michael. I don't mean I've ever bought any of his records. I mean sure, I used to listen to my flatmate's George Michael CDs, but I don't really buy CDs (I'm tight like that). What I mean is I have a soft spot for him.


He was just so sweet. Born Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou, he was the slightly pudgy son of a kebab shop owner who decided to leave East Finchley (who wouldn't?) and become an international superstar. And how nice of him to just form a band with his best mate who was very good looking but who couldn't sing or play a note on the guitar. That is really a nice gesture, well I think so anyway.

After Wham! self-destructed George went solo. I was puzzled as a teen when all my friends fancied him. The cover of the 1987 Faith album showed a screaming gay in leathers sniffing his armpit. George later came out of the closet. Surprise surprise.

But what I really love him for was that hilarious 1998 incident in which a pretty boy police man called Marcelo Rodríguez lured GM to show him his penis in a public place in a sting operation in Beverley Hills (why? Do they not have any other more important crimes to investigate than how big GM's schlong might be?)

Then, when George was arrested, he just laughed about it and said, "Well, I was followed into the restroom, and then, this cop — well, I didn't know he was a cop at the time, obviously — he started playing this game. I think it's called 'I'll show you mine, you show me yours, and then when you show me yours, I'm gonna nick you'!"
He was completely unrepentant (unlike Hugh Grant who when caught being fellated by Divine Brown said, "I think you know in life what's a good thing to do and what's a bad thing, and I did a bad thing. And there you have it," rather than just being honest and saying, "I have a thing for being blown by black prostitutes, if you've got the money, why not?") Then Michael took the Michael and made a video for his single "Outside" based on the public toilet incident and which featured men dressed up as policemen kissing. You star GM!!

Anyhow, I recently saw that GM was touring in July in DC so I mentioned it to my husband, who promptly bought two tickets ($110 each!). So I said, "Oh bugger, I didn't know they were that expensive." But then he explained we were going to be in some kind of VIP area with our own seats and a buffet. Well, that was all right then. It is such a relief to finally be middle aged and go to a nice sit down concert.



Because, quite frankly, I have never understood what is so magical about going to Glastonbury and seeing live music amongst a bunch of stoned tossers and sleeping in a tent with mud seeping through your sleeping bag. Maybe someone can enlighten me? I suppose you've got to be into live music. And I'm not. And what about going to Wembley and almost being trampled to death by crazy fans? Been there, done that and lost my shoes in the mud. I don't think so.


I don't think I've been to more that fifteen gigs in my whole life. In particular, I remember missing a Red Hot Chilli Peppers' gig in 1991 in London because I was visiting a boyfriend in Manchester and couldn't be arsed to go. Not that I knew anything about them apart from that they had cold willies. And I was in love, what can I say? But I know a true music nut would have made the effort to see the Chillis.

Anyone else out there have a secret affection for a singer that is corny but not in an ironic way, like dear old Geogie-boy?