Barbara ellen guardian biography of michael jackson

I might be a dried up old battle-axe now, but, in my 'yoof', I was 'hot' - hot enough to be denounced as a groupie. It dates back to the days when I used to staple squawking diatribes together, call them 'fanzines' and sell them at gigs to punters I liked the look of.

Forcing my photocopied 'masterpieces' upon doe-eyed boys in crumpled Wire T-shirts was my first taste of 'career fulfilment.' Crucially, although I loved music, I wasn't particularly interested in musicians, probably realising even then that the only reason 90 per cent of guys joined bands was because they were so radioactively ugly there was no other way they were ever going to get laid.

Not that this attitude made any difference.

However much one insisted that it was music one loved not musicians, one invariably got saddled with a reputation as a slut who'd do anything for a backstage pass. Just being seen in the same vicinity as goons with guitars was enough to make you 'a sure thing'.

Women hangin