Confessions of a Bee Gees Fan

The other day I read this shocking story in the Sun: it seems that when Andy Gibb set off from Australia to find fame, fortune and a few crumbs from his brothers' American table, he left behind a wife and a baby due. Since then not a word. Young Andy duly found fame, fortune, and great slices of the Bee Gees' cake; young wife is still at home. She's suing now for a divorce: Andy's become a proper rock star so he goes around with proper rock stars' beautiful companions; young wives, babies due, aren't where it's at.

A common enough pop tale, what shook me was that a Gibb should behave like a cad. I mean, my whole world as a Bee Gees fan is based on self-pity. They aren't macho musclemen, they're the ones who get dumped on, by whole continents of female cads. When they married Lulu, for example, we Bee Gees fans knew it wouldn't last, and for all her snide tales afterwards of drugs and incompatabilities, we knew who was to blame for the divorce.