..and I like what I know.
In 2004 I worked for a week in New York and when I finished up the gruelling, sixteen hour, grinding first Monday that is given to the transatlantic Investment banker, and I settled in to my room-service cheeseburger and New York Times in front of David Letterman, and I discovered that Phil was playing Madison Square Garden that Friday, I was made up
But on the Tuesday my young American co-workers, even the few that like me, looked at me blankly. 'Phil who? you mean the Tarzan guy? waddyamean this Friday?'
So on the Wednesday I walked down to the ticket booth in Union Square and bought one ticket. 'No, really, one ticket' That's right: one billy-no-mates ticket to Madison Square Gardens.
It actually would have been OK if they hadn't sat me in a whole row of nohope, singleton losers. On my left a small chinese-american hunched over a laptop, on my right a large Ukranian with a forged ticket waited for the wrestling. He had been done.
I bought a beer and a corn-dog from a roving beer and corn-dog salesman. It was the first corn-dog I had ever had. It was the last corn-dog I have ever had.
Phil played and I enjoyed every moment.
I saw Phil play Earls Court in the 90s, I saw Genesis play Twickenham in 2007; I listened to him sing almost every day from 1978 to 1985 but never went to see him.
On February 14, 1994 Mrs Botogol and I enjoyed a candlelit dinner and a Phil Collins tribute band in the Village Walk hotel, Johannesburg.It was ace.
I won't hear him drum again.
Take me home.