Aftonbladet

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(Photos below.) Jul 3rd, 1994.

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It means 'Evening Paper' in Swedish, I'm told.

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A very talented freelance journalist called Monika Agorelius got in touch with me. She was from Sweden but based in the UK. Monika specialised in stories about media, celebrities and showbusiness. She was also interested in the psychic world from a sceptical or 'critical thinking' perspective.

 

Monika interviewed me and then we needed to take some photos. I still had a day job at the time, plying my trade as a technical author (writing user manuals no-one would ever read) for a software company in Islington. There was a wonderful pub on the corner, The Hen & Chickens, which is still going strong (they have a small theatre upstairs where I performed my very first solo shows). I met Monika at the pub one lunchtime and we went upstairs to use the empty theatre as a makeshift photographic studio. Welcome to the glamorous world of showbusiness -- getting changed in an empty room over a pub at lunch-time.

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As you would expect, being featured in the international press in this way shot me to global fame and stardom. Requests for interviews and appearances came flooding in from almost every corner of the globe. I was swamped with media offers on a daily basis and, with dizzying rapidity, achieved the very pinnacle of celebrity status. Agents fought over me, venues begged me to bring in the crowds and I received marriage proposals from women on five continents. The movies studios began hounding me to approve a biopic of my fascinating life while the paparazzi, aware of the endless tabloid appetite for stories about me, made every day something of a living hell.

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No, none of this happened. There were no consequences at all. Nothing.

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I vaguely recall that Monika sold at least one other story about me to the press back home. She was delightful to work with and clearly a very smart, resourceful person.

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