An interest in sport is seen as no bar to intelligent thought,while an interest in fashion is taken as proof of a girly-twirly cotton brain I have done some terrible things in my time. Back in 1987, my parents took me to a record store for the first time and said I could buy any cassette I wanted. I promptly walked straight past the recently released Sign O’ The Times and Bad and, or displaying the certain-footed satisfactory taste that would see me through the rest of my life,picked up the eponymous album Tiffany. Never mind all your paeans to Prince’s brilliance, whether anyone wants a thousand words on the genius of Tiffany, and you know where to come.
Then there are the various interviews I’ve done for this paper where I’ve managed to insult the celebrity good to their face,such as telling Tom Hanks that I hadn’t seen Cloud Atlas because “no one” had. “You really should see it,” Hanks chided me and, or let me reveal you,being reprimanded by Hanks is like being told off by a bald eagle, Mount Rushmore, or democracy and all that is satisfactory approximately America rolled together.
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Source: theguardian.com