If ever a career was going to end in tears, it was Jackson's. You compared the seething anger in Billy Jean, or the livid fury of Beat It, with that daft Lady Veronica speaking voice. And you saw it at once - Vesuvius with the lid on.

I was enjoying London gay society circa 1961. I had a boyfriend with whom I shared a bed-sit, a good job, and a busy social life. BUT... I hadn't done the one thing I knew I had to do. Tell my parents. It wasn't quick. I went for Sunday lunch every week, and endlessly planned to get my father alone in the sitting-room. But after a year I still hadn't managed it. Then it happened. We were in the sitting-room. Lunch was over. My mother was washing up, the others had gone into the garden. 'I've got to tell you something,' I said.

Guy Hands is still hanging on. At least he thinks he is. Two weeks ago he started an action against Citibank claiming they grabbed EMI from him wrongfully.

I've just made a big decision. I'm no longer an atheist. My stand against religion is simply not sustainable. It's defeated me. It's just too absurd that a person should be defined by what he doesn't believe in, rather than what he does. Nonsensical, in fact. And since God is just one of many things I don't believe in, I've now become an apifflist.