Not sure 'celebrity' is the right word, but it all panned out pretty well in the end.
I was outside a Brixton venue, maybe The Fridge before it was The Fridge, waiting with a friend for the doors to open on a The Cult concert one hot early 1980s evening.

An effete chap walked up and down the line talking very softly to a few random lads in the queue, and soon came to us. "Do you want to come back to my flat for a bit?" he asked, I noticed a toothbrush sticking out his shirt pocket, assumed it was one of those gay codes for something or other, something or other I'm not supposed to know unless I'm part of the scene. We both politely, and wordlessly, declined his invitation. Both of us were as embarrassed as each other to have been propositioned by a man (we weren't homophobes, just naive teenagers who hadn't been around long enough to recognise our fears were indoctrinated ones) and we never spoke of it again.

Not even a couple of years later when our interviewer's very memorable fizzog was plastered over all the papers and TV News, it was Dennis Nilsen.
(J H Christ began in Afrika ka ka ka ka, Mon 9 Dec 2013, 0:01, Reply)