Do you know how much tax I'm gonna pay? More than all those assholes put together, so don't give me no shit about being the worst of British.''
''Josh, I'm Richard Evans from the Rock and Roll Times....''
''You can fuck off straight away. You called me a prick in your article. What was it? Yes, that's right. The biggest prick on the planet. I'm not the biggest prick on the planet , I've got the biggest prick on the planet .'' People roared with laughter, and Richard Evans sat down defeated.
''Josh, I'm Jon Cookeridge from US Rolling Stone. Are you going to be touring the States soon?''
''At last, a proper fucking question. Yes, Jon we've got something in the planning. I think we'll be in the US in October and November. Is that right Tubby?'' Josh looked at Harry who nodded. ''Tubby will send you details Jon, okay?''
''Josh, it's Emma from the BBC....''
''Fuck me the BBC. I must be doing well. She's a bit of alright as well isn't she,'' Josh said pointing at Emma.
''Are you anti-women?'' Emma continued.
''Why do you ask that?''
''The way you talk about women, it seems disrespectful.''
''Oh does it, little Miss Perfect? Listen I love women, ain't nobody who loves more women that I do.'' The male members of the audience giggled. ''What would you girls do without me? You all wanna piece of me, admit it. Even Emma here. She's acting all prudish, but she wants it really . Look she's blushing, she really wants it.''
''I'm Harriet from the Times. Josh, talking in that manner really isn't going to get you very far. Don't you think it's insulting to women? Because I do.''
''Is that a question? Jesus your poor husband. I bet you make him beg when he wants to fuck you. Although why anyone would want to do that to you, I have no frigging idea. Tubby, I've had enough of this shit. Only one reasonable question, the rest were just prodding into my private life.''
Josh walked off the stage to more flashes. His bodyguards surrounded him and took him out of the room.
When they reached his hotel room, Josh opened the mini bar and took out a beer. ''Well that was a bunch of laughs.''
''Josh, you've got to stop swearing at everybody. The things you said about Emma and Harriet were unforgivable,'' Harry said.
''Fuck off, Tubby. What the hell do you know? The last time you dipped your wick the fucking Titanic was still in construction. Listen, I'm who I am. I write music and sing. I like to screw women, and I like to drink a few beers. What I don't like are people telling me what to do.''
''Insulting people isn't good for sales, though,'' Harry complained.
''I call you Tubby because you're a fat fucker. That hasn't stopped you working with me has it?''
''I only do that for the money, though. Do you think I would put up with you if you weren't a darn good earner for the label?''
''No I don't think you would, and I wouldn't blame you.'' Josh snapped the top off the bottle and took a swig.''But it's all about money. All those parasites just now were here to interview me because I'm selling their papers and magazines. What do you think sells better Tubby, a story about me insulting the bitches in the press or a story about my grandmother and how much she loves my music?'' Josh lay down on the bed and opened his shirt. The large Eagle on his chest looked ready to swoop down and peck Tubby's eyes out.
''I know Josh. I get the game too. But it's going too far. You just can't swear and insult people so much.''
''Who gives a toss. I don't insult my fans; they know I love 'em . But the press can fuck off and so can that asshole Prime Minster. Who the fuck does he think he is?''
*****
The crowd cheered, and the fireworks exploded. This was a Josh Bloodstone concert at it's best. The stadium was packed with fifty thousand adoring fans. Josh was the man women loved and men admired. When he bounced onto the stage, people went wild. He was the best-selling British artist since the Beatles. A household name, a person that you either,
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