Where are you? Highgate, the curtain-twitching capital of North London. What are you? A crushing argument for abortion. What do you make? A great cup of tea. What do you love? Skinniness. Short hair. Nice suits. Politeness. Honesty. Wit. Whit Stillman. Walt Whitman. Whittington’s Cat. Unsolicited kisses. Well-shaven napes. Ally Pally on a Sunday afternoon. What do you hate? Facial hair, including sideburns. Long hair. My speaking voice and teeth. The Daily Mail. Baroness Young. British People In Hot Weather. Two-facedness. Betrayal by so-called friends. Having my passivity exploited. Fibs. What do you listen to? The hum of my fridge - insert Warp Records joke here -. Mike Alway Core. Ms Ross. The usual twee suspects. Sondheim, Nyman, Carole King, Bacharach. ‘An Evening With Quentin Crisp’, twice a day. What do you watch? Squirrels from my window. Lindsay Anderson films. Anything with Jude Law or Ben Affleck in it. What do you drink? Aspartame cocktails. What do you smoke? Menthol ciggies, because I hear they make you sterile. And they don’t have a nasty brown filter. What do you take? Stick. What do you believe in? Death, the Internet, Truth, Beauty, Childishness, Childlessness, Billy Childish, forgiveness, bed, soft toy dogs. Homosexual shenanigans to Style Council records.
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