Off the coast of me

3 Nov

I can’t be sure but I swear it was him. Kid Creole was buying petrol and Maltesers in the 24-hour Tesco Garage on the Fulham Road. I guess it was pretty late in the evening- past nine, no doubt, but by no means a seedy hour. I stood by the magazine aisle and watched him as he lined up to pay, unbothered by a clientele oblivious to the classier end of 1980s pop-funk.

He was still in costume- white fedora, beige zoot suit and gangster spats. I guess if you pick a halfway decent stage get-up before you get famous, then once you’re 60 and languishing in the obscurity of post-Top of the Pops 2 London, you can dust off the clothes and enjoy being the best-dressed man in the petrol station.

I went home, had a gin and ordered his greatest hits off Amazon.

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