Punk presented me the draft version of chapters one to five of 'The Vicar Chronicles'. If I suffered such abuse from an outsider, I should seek legal redress. I am variously described as a 'pompous arse', an 'arrogant Englishman' and 'a man suffering from OCD'. My fondness for Earl Grey tea and sticky cakes has been changed into something approaching an addiction. In Punk’s hands, my life seems to have become a bad James Bond fantasy. There is clearly a balance to be struck between art and truth. I await his revisions with interest.
As punishment, I handed Punk the ticket that Richard Breamore supplied me for the Lord’s cricket match, where Australia continue to prove that there is little hunger left in the mother country for such sporting events. I cannot imagine a more uncomfortable combination than Richard and Punk. For Richard, the fact that Punk belongs to an underclass would be more than sufficient - before one remembers the fact he knows Punk overheard his recent confessions about misappropriating Billy G’s royalties. Punk is so thick skinned that I have no doubt he will succeed in enjoying himself.
Is the British weather really of interest to a diary reader? It has been sufficiently pleasant today for me to be writing this on the back deck., although I fear the loud country music coming from James’ boat will now drive me inside.
It is indeed an honour that Fripp and Singleton have invited me to submit myself to 'public ridicule' by the DGM readership. I trust that in the coming months, as I perform my task as a consultant for DGM, they will not have cause to regret their decision. I am aware that I am entering someone else’s house, and must abide by their rules: whether taking off your shoes, waiting to be seated, or, as in Japan, taking a bath."