Nelson Galaxy

It is a rather bizarre experience for someone of my sartorial extremes to spend a week in a tiny Derbyshire village. It is a small community where everyone knows each other and will discuss deeply personal and medical matters openly in the street. I don’t think it would be too over the top to suggest there is some inbreeding in this ex-mining hamlet. There is very strong idiot BNP support (including one of their headquarters – firebomb now) and an undercurrent of possible violence.

I’m sure you can image my feelings of discomfort when out and about there. The locals do not take kindly to seeing a girly-boy wandering around or visiting the local hostelries, with the one and only Napoleon Fantastic. I really did try to play it down. I was tempted to go out in drag for my mother’s seventieth birthday meal but I don’t think this would have gone down too well. So there were no heels, dressing up or make up. However, I still have very long hair and rather plucked eyebrows so I do stand out. Imagine a young David Bowie wandering around Worksop.

Napoleon and I cannot help ourselves. It is impossible to remain indoors for a week recording my new album. We have to have a couple of evenings in the pub. There is always the chance that a group of glamour model university graduates would be sat in our favourite bar/restaurant looking to meet a couple of gorgeous and intelligent pop stars.

However, the reality is that we are usually sat in The Villager, several pints down, being glared at by a table full of testosterone pumped, shaven headed, bulldog faced locals. It’s usually best to leave. It’s strange how fast one can run whilst drunk.

Cut to Friday 21st December and we will be doing it all over again, just in case those models have chosen this particular village on this particular evening to go looking for two gentlemen.