I gave up smoking.
Four years or so now.
The last one was with Steve Lamacq at Reading.
Now I consider the smoking me as a ridiculous figure. I never had the face for it.
I gave up drinking. I managed eleven months, rejecting fine wines offered to me by Professor Cox, cheery after show booze platters at TEDx talks, rum cheer at Glastonbury, eventually defeated by a Red Stripe in a red room filled with re-faced and dripping people.
It was Michael Legge’s fault.
“That’s it, I can’t work with you sober,” he bellowed in his best marching and throwing things voice.
He stormed off to the bar, returned and placed a can on a center stage chair.
Why did I drink it?
For the sake of showbusiness, of course. It was the most stupid thing to do in front of the audience, bananaskin melodrama, so it had to…
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