The Times Magazine 53played for Madonna twice. The first
time it was the afterparty for a gig
the record label had organised and
the second was for her birthday.
I think it might have been her
30th. Christopher, her brother, had
seen me and he basically said, “My
sister’s coming and they want you
to do her party.” I was hanging out with
him at the time.
On the day of the party I had to go to
the Groucho Club for a soundcheck and all
the roads were closed off – Old Compton
Street, Dean Street – all filled with those
vans with news dishes on the top. Back
then, celebrity parties were big, big things...
I remember thinking I should probably get
myself a bag to see me through the night,
so off I went to my dealer’s house in
Queensway. I remember telling him that
I had to be back in 45 minutes. So we start
chopping out lines and then he gets the
bong out and we start freebasing coke.
My set was starting at 7.30pm and I was
only leaving my dealer’s house at 7, totally
wired. The cab dropped me at the end of
Dean Street and I remember running back
to the driver and being like, “I’m DJing,”
but the police wouldn’t let me through. I
got so bollocked when I finally got there.
I was so fed that I was dribbling. I had
proper coke face – I would gurn so badly.
An added problem was that my friend Boy
George hadn’t been invited to the party, so
I invited him and, unlike a normal person
who might just tell their friend it wasn’t
going to work, I told them that if they didn’t
let him in I would turn the music off. And
so Madonna’s brother, Christopher, goes
and gets him. By this stage I’m really not
handling it very well. Totally spangled and
just about managing to play tracks into
each other without any moments of silence.
Just. And so Madonna comes over and asks
me to spice it up and I remember telling
her to f off. “Did you just tell me to f
off ?” she said. “No one ever tells me to f
off. I like your sass. Keep playing.” And
high-fives me! George was behind me,
absolutely mortified.
Playing for Madonna was amazing
- I might have been fed, but I was still
playing for fing Madonna. Playing for
Prince was amazing, playing Wham! the
Final at Wembley Stadium was amazing,
doing their afterparty at the Hippodrome
was amazing. They closed off all the streets
of London. They just wouldn’t do that now.
It was at a time when celebrities really were
celebrities. They were untouchable – they
didn’t have their Instagram account open to
you. They were superstars.
The really sad thing about these times- playing at parties for Madonna, Michael
Jackson, Prince and Elton John, moments
when you were playing music and making
some of the biggest stars on the planet dance - was that they should have been career-
defining gigs and magical moments. And
they were... But I wasn’t really there. I was
there in body, but I wasn’t there in mind.
And I really wish I remembered. Of course,
I have memories of them, but not the right
memories. My mind wasn’t engaged; the only
thing I was engaged with was drugs.
George Michael asked me to play at his
30th birthday party at his parents’ house
in Bushey. He’d bought them this kind of
ranch and so we themed the party like an
old western, with bales of hay everywhere.
I went in drag, obviously – a leopard-print
dress with two leopard-print bows – and a
clutch bag of MDMA [Ecstasy]. I had massive
yellow Vivienne Westwood platforms and was
about 8ft tall. I was with Neil [Tennant] and
Chris [Lowe] from the Pet Shop Boys and
they didn’t even recognise me.
I was doing so much MDMA and
everyone was absolutely off their rocker.
There’s a really good picture of George
lying on the floor and me standing on
top of him with my foot (and Westwood
platforms) on his back. I remember turning
up to the party and I hadn’t been wearing
any underpants. As I was getting changed
into drag I realised I needed a pair,
otherwise absolutely everything would
have been hanging out, so I got the guy
that I’d taken down there to give me his.
Just as he was taking them off and I was
putting them on, both with all our bits out,
George Michael’s dad walks in and catches
sight of this 8ft drag queen putting this guy’s
underwear on and it really freaks him out.
I took my George (Boy George) up to
see George Michael in Highgate about two
years before he died. We’d drifted apart as
he was doing what he was doing and I’d
been doing what I’d been doing. I’d been
at a friend’s house who lived nearby and
popped around and put notes through his
door saying, “If you ever need any help,
then please just call me,” and we’d
reconnected again. This was probably about
six or seven years into my sobriety. We
went over and the two Georges got on
really well. We sat in the kitchen and
chatted about the old times, about music,
about new music, about gay cruising – we
really covered it all. As we left, Boy George
said he really feared for him and I said
I didn’t think it would be long before
there were ambulances at the house.
People ask if I wish I’d done more to
help George, but I don’t think it’s about
doing more – you can’t help someone who
doesn’t want to be helped. I’d been up to
Highgate and spoken to him loads of times
to see if he was OK, to see if he wanted any
help, or if he wanted to come to a 12-step
programme with me. But addiction isolates- it’s just you, the dealer, the people you’re
doing drugs with and the people who want
drugs. Throw a bit of sex into the mix and
you’re lost from society. In the end, he just
stopped answering my calls. n
Extracted from I Don’t Take Requests
by DJ Fat Tony, published by Coronet on
May 26 (£20)I
‘I TOLD GEORGE MICHAEL: “IF YOU EVER NEED HELP,
JUST CALL ME.” BUT HE STOPPED CALLING’
George Michael