Jesus Christ, arrogant Superstar

Although I am supposed to be planning a bbq and I have a screaming baby in the background... I am going to write part 4 of Star Struck In Excess........ 
To read proceding parts go here 
if you are a new reader I apologise, I do not normally do mini-series posts but this one has a life of its own, if you go to part three - it will lead you to the beginning, if you are that way inclined...


......... although he had reached his prime well over a decade ago, Jon Stevens entered a room - and his energy screamed ROCKSTAR.

Dressed in a cool cotton white top, just open enough to reveal a little cleavage, and black leather pants (think my memory is distorted, surely not? Maybe jeans, but definitely white open shirt)

He had a  presence that unnerved an already unnerved me.

He walked up to the table where I was sitting with his band members and continued talking on his mobile phone -- he then hung up and - started chatting to his other band members.

Yes, please act as though I don't exist. 


Then he turned to me, sunglasses still on.

"Sorry, I'm late - I'm Jon."

He offered me his hand - I stood up and shook it, and introduced myself - I think, I don't know, can't remember this moment.

It is forever archived in the 'I am frozen with nerves' compartment.

He then returned to his conversation with the band members, before his phone rang again.

Please, don't let me interrupt you. My time is of no essence here, I thought as I seemingly blended into the furniture of the Century Tavern.

Not having any idea how to take charge of such a situation, I asked one of the band members (as they were a hell of a lot more approachable)
"So are you guys going to be part of this interview?"
Turned out this was the correct thing to say, it prompted the band members to flee to the next table, and Jon sat down with me, albeit on the phone, and I patiently awaited my first  interview.

As he continued blabbering on his phone, I nervously checked my papers for the first question.

I was beginnning to get annoyed at how rude he was being.

He was about 20 minutes late as it was and he seemed to have no respect for me, the lowly interviewer from the Herald.

Had the man known what the last 24 hours had been like for me, or the fact that I had an entirely new outfit purchased specifically for this occassion, maybe just maybe he would have got off the phone and at least faked some sort of manners.

Just because you were once a rockstar, doesn't give you the luxury of acting as though you are more important than ..... well, me.

Eventually, he hung up the phone.

He gave me a insincere apology.

I over-smiled, told him how fine it was , introduced myself - checked my notes, tried to adopt a confident seating position, took a deep breath ready to fire off my first question.

"So, Jon" I began, being sure to make the right eye contact, sit in an authoritarian, I'm leading the show here kind've way...

"Back in the days of Noiseworks....."

And wouldn't you know it...

There went his bloody phone.

Without a second thought he answered it.

Again.

"Jesus Christ, Superstar" I thought to myself.

Was this interview EVER going to happen?

(and shut-up, don't ask me that same question hahahaha)