ADAM ANT: SEX-PERSON WITHOUT A CAUSE!

Adam Ant materialized in the lobby of a West Hollywood hotel that employs a lot of very stupid Englishwomen and offered me his hand. In the 63 years that I've been interviewing rock stars, Fve found that only one in twenty can be bothered to address you by name, Adam was the one, and his handshake was firm. He wore a suit that was tailored peculiarly enough to have been by some terribly chic designer. Except for his ponytail, he looked a perfectly normal sort. We walked together up to Sunset Blvd., Adam Ant and I, to a place where we could cappuccino while we chatted. He treated. I like that in an interview subject. hoped that we’d get on swimmingly. My

get on goes into a rapturous daze whenever thinks of Adam, and 1 hoped later to inhim over for supper so that she'd be thrilled. Maybe it. was my own fault that I got bored comatose listening to him prattle on incoherently about various aspects of The put the proverbial lid on it, Ad’s the lad.