Working on anther story this one starts from one evening I experienced while working as company manager on Andy Warhol’s Pork. A show that was done at the Roundhouse in 1971. It was based on recordings of phone conversations Warhol had with a New York socialite. The show was crazy – directed by Tony who you see at the left front the rest of the guys are cast members. It was a revelation to me that there existed this entirely different world where gender was in determinate, sex something done in broad delight in front of others, provocation a way of life. We used to go down the the very recently opened Hard Rock Cafe in Piccadilly. I would drive Tony and Geri Miller and Wayne County (yet to become Jayne County) in my open topped Morris 1000 listening to to the Rolling Stones on the cassette player. The Hard Rock would always hold a series of tables for the cast and I have no memory of ever paying for any food. Looking back it seems an extraordinarily naive and innocent debauchery. I have no memory of anyone being hurt. Contained within the drugs and promiscuity and irresponsibility a belief that a grown up fairyland was within our grasp. Perhaps it was?
I did meet Andy. When I was introduced he looked at the floor and said “Oh, really.” That was it