THE BABY’S PLAYGROUND POLITICS

So why should I believe one word coming from John Waite's pertly posed lips? Here's this image of deceptive age, leader of a group who've been promoted more than played. Sashaying into the hotel lobby, the five Babys stand peacock bright amid the muted beige reception area. They wear layers of bandanas, jewelry, earrings and carefully flung bits of tat, with only new keyboardist Jonathan Cain, a solid man from the wilds of Chicago, clad in respectable black leather jacket and looking mortal.

The rock 'n' roll anarchist in me, cleverly concealed in discount designer duds, rankled at the very existence of this lot. The Babys are not household words^-they are the household! I've got a Broken Heart mirror on one wall and have the option to parade through the Apple in a hand-embroidered Head First tour jacket. Does the "take a Baby to bed with you" folding sofa arrive next?