In which a minorly well-known journalistic type approves of my hair.
Martin Bell, the journalist and man in the white suit, did a guest lecture at my uni last year. It was "strongly recommended" that those of us on the journalism course went to it, so naturally at least three people in my year showed up. I was one of them: I am a journalism geek, had nothing better to do and was almost certainly mildly stoned.

Furthermore, on finding out we were actually going to get a halfway decent guest lecturer for once (the interesting ones tend to pass over Chester. Edwina Currie came here once, but I slept through it and so didn't get to ask her if she'd come across any Major hindrances in her political career. But I digress), I had googled Mr Bell to see if he was really as nifty and liberal as he seemed. A lifetime's association with Frank Zappa, Bill Hicks, Mark Thomas, PJ O'Rourke and the like has conditioned me with the belief that everyone has Something To Hide; that a question isn't worth asking if it doesn't make the subject uncomfortable; and that I sort of want to be Jack Parlabane when I grow up. So, internet, tell me Martin Bell's filthy secrets.

And it did, or seemed to. Multiple sources, none of which were Wikipedia, told me Martin Bell - UNICEF ambassador, former anti-sleaze MP and all-round Good Guy - had, during his time in Parliament, voted in favour of Section 28, that nasty, brutish little law forbidding schoolchildren being taught anything positive about gay people. I was torn between 'ONOZ! Not that nice man!' and 'booya! Now I can ask a difficult question and be edgy and cool'.

So, when we got to the audience participation part of the lecture, up I leapt to ask my cool and edgy question. It went a bit like this:
"Why did you support Section 28?"
"I didn't."
"Oh."

But he went on to say he was chuffed with the question, that I had balls (I paraphrase) for asking it, and that you should always ask difficult questions. Or something. Afterwards I was outside the lecture theatre having a fag when he came out; whereupon he complimented me again on my nifty question-asking skills and the colour of my hair (pink). My mother may never forgive him.
(Shinigami, Sat 10 Oct 2009, 18:20, Reply)