You had me at “I like David Icke”

I was excited to hear he was a David Bowie fan. Finally something we had in common we could chat about…. an hour had passed in which I had heard that the ‘actor’ didn’t accept acting work because it’s basically ‘whoring yourself’, that he ‘liked his own (one block) circle’, hadn’t been in anything I could see anywhere, was also a producer who wasn’t producing anything and who wouldn’t take any job that was in one of the numerous theatres along Paral•lel, because it’s *’too far’ and ‘it’s not about the money’. Apparently, sir, it would seem it’s not about the acting or producing either.

I asked if, as a self-confessed Bowie fan, he’d gone to the incredible David Bowie Is….. exhibition.


His opening gambit was a mind-blowingly inspirational, ‘I don’t like to travel. Well I do, but I don’t… I mean I have travelled, but not too much. I love my little circle.’ No shit. ‘I don’t need to go anywhere really, I can just read about it. I get all I need from books. I read about everything.’ At least he reads, I suppose. Small mercies. He said he was part Argentinian, I wanted to know more. Of course I did! Who in his family was from there? Which part of Argentina? Did he tango? Well, he is a creative after all – I figured I might meet his inner song and dance man.

About five percent Argentinian, but no one in his family is actually from there (?) Eh? As for the Tango: computer says no.

I mean, I’m probably about five percent Argentinian. You probably are.

There was an enormous amount of head-scratching.

“I can dance. Like in the disco. I don’t need classes.” M’kay…… he can also sing, but doesn’t. I was becoming increasingly exasperated (read also; confused), we were rapidly running out of the usual first date chat, that honestly, usually comes a damn sight easier than it did in El Cafe Rock and Roll. It might have been easier to hack my own arm off without anaesthetic, armed only with a bar-supplied pork scratching. I hopefully asked what creative project he was working on at the moment.


I supposed that maybe he taught, given that he didn’t seem do anything else that he claimed to do and asked if he was passing on his knowledge to the next generation, at the family theatre.

Also: “No.”

Another day, another date. ^le siggghhh^. Friday night at least led me to a superb blues band playing in a cool little bar, on the way into Gràcia. Thank all the heavens for that gem, otherwise someone might have found me stuck between the prison bars on the toilet window, trying to escape. The night was as good as a write-off. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone I had less in common with, in my whole entire life…..

I met with the ‘actor/producer’ at his family’s art centre, which was a beautiful space and made me nostalgic for my festival days. I couldn’t see him anywhere. He was a handsome chap with a touch of the cavalier about him. It appears that I’m not very good at hiding my disappointment…… I walked right past him, and then exclaimed, “YOU?” when he made himself known. I was visibly shocked. He noticed. Credit where it’s due though, the chap takes a bloody good photo. In reality, he was neither handsome nor cavalier. He was also half my weight. A delicate flower of a hippy dude. A delicate flower of a hippy dude who stank of fags.

That’s no criticism of peace-loving individuals by the way – I’m a bit of a hippy myself. But I consider myself to be a pretty tolerable sort. I’m constantly looking for inner calm, I wish on stars, stare at and speak to the full moon, occasionally read my horoscopes and hope for world peace in my lifetime. What I do not do, however, is think that Queen Elizabeth is a lizard masquerading as a human. He was spiritual, he meditated – now here was something to chat about. Yay! Fill ‘er up bar tender, and make it a large one. I’ve been meditating since last summer, let’s go, dude!

“Have you heard of David Icke?”

I gave up trying to look/appear/be tolerant. I slumped onto the bar where we were sitting on tall stools, and then poured the large glass of red down my neck. I explained that I had, and that he was, quite frankly, demented.

I tentatively asked, “You don’t believe the lizard stuff, do you?”

But of course he did. Probably the Bourbons and Windsors; but that was another story for another day.

…………and another woman.

*a kilometre


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