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What Michael Jackson’s doctor saw What Michael Jackson’s doctor saw
(about 1 month later)
It used to be that in Fleet Street you could write whatever you liked about the royal family because they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer back. Does this now apply to the late king of pop? Michael Jackson’s former personal physician, Dr Conrad Murray – imprisoned for involuntary manslaughter for supplying the drugs on which Jackson fatally overdosed – has published a grisly tell-all book, coyly entitled This Is It.It used to be that in Fleet Street you could write whatever you liked about the royal family because they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer back. Does this now apply to the late king of pop? Michael Jackson’s former personal physician, Dr Conrad Murray – imprisoned for involuntary manslaughter for supplying the drugs on which Jackson fatally overdosed – has published a grisly tell-all book, coyly entitled This Is It.
In it, he dramatically reveals the creepy stuff that was going through the head of his eccentric and reclusive patient, and declares that Jackson would have wanted him to reveal it. The most sensational claim is that Jackson, that spindly little figure in the surgical mask, nurtured the idea of one day marrying Emma Watson, who was then just becoming famous in the Harry Potter movies.In it, he dramatically reveals the creepy stuff that was going through the head of his eccentric and reclusive patient, and declares that Jackson would have wanted him to reveal it. The most sensational claim is that Jackson, that spindly little figure in the surgical mask, nurtured the idea of one day marrying Emma Watson, who was then just becoming famous in the Harry Potter movies.
Related: Elvis and Nixon, Reagan and Jacko, Jagger and Blair … when pop stars and politicians collide | Craig Brown
It is an exquisitely provocative idea – evil, horrible – and a pairing taken at face value by news outlets. But we have only Murray’s word for it: a man whose only source of income now is unverifiable gossip concerning the contents of a dead man’s mind. And who knows what else Murray has in the pipeline? What other Jacko yearnings is he going to remember in years to come? That Michael planned to marry Pippa Middleton? Susanna Reid? Angela Merkel? A whole new industry is opening up for him – one that depends on credulous news sources across the globe.It is an exquisitely provocative idea – evil, horrible – and a pairing taken at face value by news outlets. But we have only Murray’s word for it: a man whose only source of income now is unverifiable gossip concerning the contents of a dead man’s mind. And who knows what else Murray has in the pipeline? What other Jacko yearnings is he going to remember in years to come? That Michael planned to marry Pippa Middleton? Susanna Reid? Angela Merkel? A whole new industry is opening up for him – one that depends on credulous news sources across the globe.
The darling specs of MayThe darling specs of May
The other day, someone asked me why I had chosen the face of our new prime minster’s husband, Philip May, as my Twitter avatar. I was baffled. I hadn’t chosen May. I had chosen the bespectacled and somewhat earnest face of the British comedy actor Richard Wattis, perhaps most famous for being Eric Sykes’s grumpy next-door neighbour in the 70s sitcom. But when I looked at May’s face, I had to concede the point: he does look a bit like Wattis. And from a certain angle, his very kindly face also looks the tiniest bit like Arthur Askey’s.The other day, someone asked me why I had chosen the face of our new prime minster’s husband, Philip May, as my Twitter avatar. I was baffled. I hadn’t chosen May. I had chosen the bespectacled and somewhat earnest face of the British comedy actor Richard Wattis, perhaps most famous for being Eric Sykes’s grumpy next-door neighbour in the 70s sitcom. But when I looked at May’s face, I had to concede the point: he does look a bit like Wattis. And from a certain angle, his very kindly face also looks the tiniest bit like Arthur Askey’s.
It’s something to do with his chunky, no-nonsense glasses, very different from the discreetly framed, shoulda-gone-to-Specsavers ones being modelled around the cabinet table by the likes of Michael Fallon and Greg Clark. There was a beguiling photograph of Mr and Mrs May that many papers published on their front pages, showing prime minister and spouse beaming at each other outside No 10, as if singing a duet from a Sandy Wilson musical comedy. Philip has a likable, old-fashioned face. I hope he never experiments with contact lenses.It’s something to do with his chunky, no-nonsense glasses, very different from the discreetly framed, shoulda-gone-to-Specsavers ones being modelled around the cabinet table by the likes of Michael Fallon and Greg Clark. There was a beguiling photograph of Mr and Mrs May that many papers published on their front pages, showing prime minister and spouse beaming at each other outside No 10, as if singing a duet from a Sandy Wilson musical comedy. Philip has a likable, old-fashioned face. I hope he never experiments with contact lenses.
The big shortThe big short
The great Lake District chronicler Alfred Wainwright used to say there was no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing. He was talking about rain, of course, but it applies to what I am grumpily calling the current “hot snap”.The great Lake District chronicler Alfred Wainwright used to say there was no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing. He was talking about rain, of course, but it applies to what I am grumpily calling the current “hot snap”.
Now that the sun has been burning down, I have to face the reality that people expect men to wear shorts. Anything else makes you look like one of those people who dressed for dinner in the Raj, your tuxedo accessorised with a pith helmet and feathers.Now that the sun has been burning down, I have to face the reality that people expect men to wear shorts. Anything else makes you look like one of those people who dressed for dinner in the Raj, your tuxedo accessorised with a pith helmet and feathers.
But, worse, you are also expected to wear a T-shirt. For some reason, my upper body doesn’t suit a T-shirt. My stooping shoulders and flabby excuses for pecs distort it into a shape for which the only possible adjective is “wrong”.But, worse, you are also expected to wear a T-shirt. For some reason, my upper body doesn’t suit a T-shirt. My stooping shoulders and flabby excuses for pecs distort it into a shape for which the only possible adjective is “wrong”.
In a normal shirt, I am just about OK, but in a T-shirt I look like a middle-aged, hungover roadie for Iron Maiden about to go into a cardiac arrest because he’s just carried a Vox amplifier into the backstage area of the O2. The sooner this “sunshine” is over, the sunnier my mood will be.In a normal shirt, I am just about OK, but in a T-shirt I look like a middle-aged, hungover roadie for Iron Maiden about to go into a cardiac arrest because he’s just carried a Vox amplifier into the backstage area of the O2. The sooner this “sunshine” is over, the sunnier my mood will be.