Noone Is Really Cool...

...I'm happy to say. The whole thing's just a front. If you're a member of a highly successful band, sooner or later you're going to end up releasing a 'greatest hits' album; fashion designers get old and ugly in the end, and writers get misinterpreted by legions of clones who like to hold up one of their efforts whilst on public transport or

I once worked with the former manager of a band who made it very big in the UK and worldwide in the late 70s and early 80s, and he used to eat his lunch with a napkin tucked into his collar so there was this kind of white triangle hanging over the front of his shirt, like people did in Edwardian times or something. He was a former Lloyds' name and didn't he just know it. I was not impressed.

In the final go round, being cool is incredibly hard work, one slip, one overheard conversation about train times, prices or whose turn it is to feed the cat and your cover's blown. And not even stupid people can maintain that indefinitely.

The only way round this is to die young, then you might just make it, but a fat lot of use it's going to be to you

So wear your horizontally striped jersey, red corduroy shirt or fleece top with pride, and take some comfort in the fact that your life is not a lie.