It would be acceptable if you were a beard-wearing math professor or a Soya milk drinking accountant……….you are allowed to be hopelessly, mind-numbingly dull.
But in a pop star dullness is not allowed. What is the point of being an internationally famous and worshipped god of rock, with groupies and millions of pounds and an incurable and as-yet-to-be-diagnosed case of compensatory narcissistic personality disorder, if you don’t decide on the spur of the moment, for example, to become a door-to-door Jehovah’s Witness (Prince, 2001) or, as Keith Moon did, bowl up at a tennis match in a tank and dressed as Erwin Rommel?
The reason is, in 2009, that none of your fellow pop stars would find it remotely funny. They’re more likely to report you to the Association of Singing Superstars (A.S.S.) or suggest you might want to sit on Oprah’s couch, cry …………….and say sorry to the world.
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