THE "OTHER" MARILYN
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE GENDER BENDING '80S MISFIT

For a while in the 80s, wherever you saw a picture of Boy George, his friend Marilyn, another flamboyant cross dressing pop star, was right at his side. Marilyn caught up with our own retro-Randy and gave us an in-depth interview about his life before and after George.

Where you a wild child? A bit of a hellraiser?

Obviously, I didn’t think of myself as such, but in retrospect I was probably kind of wild. I used to wear leopard skin dresses and 5 inch stilettos and go out dressed up as Marilyn Monroe with a black corset on because I had an 18 inch waist and all of that kind of thing. I had bleached hair. That was enough to make people stop their cars and start yelling things out of the windows. It was just after or around the time of Punk.

I suppose you could call me a hellraiser, but if you mean in the context of have I ever thrown a TV out of a hotel window then no. Not that kind of hellraiser. There’s a third definition of hellraiser and that would obviously have to do with the Occult and I most definitely do not have anything to do with that. Out of the three subcategories for the word hellraiser I would go with shocking people with being bizarre.

Why did you start dressing like Marilyn Monroe?

I used to love Marilyn Monroe. I still do. The last school I went to I had these art classes. No matter what the assignment was I’d always end up drawing Marilyn Monroe. They’d say, "Draw the Golden Gate Bridge" and I’d draw Marilyn’s head & shoulders.

Not really. The bridge is beautiful, but there’s like 6 zillion pictures and movies. I think there’s enough in the world about the bridge, but if you want to assess my drawing capability then assess what I’m drawing. That was my rationale. I would always end up drawing Jerry Hall as a Mermaid because she had done the cover of one of Roxy Music’s albums. She was coming out of the sea perched up on a rock. She had a blue, purple, and silver tail.

She was at her peak of her supermodeldom. I always enjoyed drawing women. That’s what I was drawing the day the Marilyn thing started. I was coming out of the class and someone said, "Drawing another picture of Marilyn? Oh Marilyn! Marilyn!" It was not meant as a "Term of Endearment". It had nothing to do with Shirley MacLaine. It was meant to be an insult.

Did you start going to clubs at this point?

I started going out to clubs and that’s when I had my hair bleached white. One day I was sitting in assembly. I’d lift my head up occasionally. My bangs would be hanging across my face. I was a pure, dazzling white. Everything compared to mine looked black. I thought, "Oh my God." I hadn’t realized how much I stuck out. I hadn’t had a good third person perception of myself.

I was still living with my mother at that time. I had started going out to a club called the Embassy. People would say I looked really beautiful. My friend I knew had a car. We’d picked out clubs you couldn’t get into for love of money. Yet, every single one that I turned up to would say, "Hi Marilyn. Go straight in. It’s nice to see you." The first time it happened my friend was ready to take his wallet out and pay. They just waived us through. I said, "Do you believe that? We’re here."

Was there an age thing?

You’re supposed to be 18. I was 14. I’d dress up like Marilyn with the corset and the high heels, but looking absolutely fantastic. Otherwise they wouldn’t let me in. The reason I started dressing was when those motherfuckers at my last school started calling me, "Marilyn" as an insult I thought I’m going to fucking use that name and ram it down your never get out of this shithole end of town pigsty throat.

You used something that was an insult and made it a positive?

I put up with it for a decade or more and it was enough.

You were listening to different music?

I used to like Motown when I was much younger. At that time Diana Ross’s "Sweetest Hangover" was playing a lot. I used to love that song. All of the 70’s songs I used to like. A few disco kind of numbers.

Donna Summer?

I used to love Donna. The embassy club used to hold parties there with Earth, Wind and Fire, and Stevie Wonder. If you were somebody you had to party there.

You started meeting other people in the club?

All top designers. To get into the club you had to be happening on a number of levels. People used to come up to me and say, "You’re so gorgeous." It was a constant compliment.

Tell us about Jamaica & your holidays there with George.

The first time I took him to Jamaica. He was scared to go. I had to convince him. I was born there. Fear doesn’t even play a part. Jamaica is my home. I’m not English. I have an English passport and a Jamaican passport. Anytime they ask me what nationality I am I always say Jamaican. As soon as the tires hit the landing I involuntarily burst into tears.

When they opened the door to the plane this rush of heat hit you right on. Jamaica has its own particular air. It has an aroma and fragrance. It’s like fresh bananas, pineapples, limes. Jamaica is like an Elixir of life for me. I’ve always been an insomniac. When I go to bed I never sleep. When I go to Jamaica I fall asleep at 8 or 9 o’clock in the evening and I’m up at 6AM. My body rhythm falls exactly into line when I go to Jamaica. Don’t threat yourself just relax. It’s that kind of vibe.

Well, there’s really nowhere to go out to.

We had a fantastic time.

That was the first holiday that we went on. George never had been on any foreign holiday. I had to nag him for 2 weeks. He had this apartment and that’s a very complimentary description of what it was. Philip Salon a mutual friend of ours rented him his apartment. I’m using the term very loosely.

He used to sit in his apartment. It had two bedrooms and a front room. The sofa room was the front room. It was a small kitchen. It wasn’t even a kitchen. It was like a little bay kind of thing with a sink and tiny little fridge. To tap it all off the ceilings where sloping at an angle so the closer you got to the wall the more you had to hunch down. This room must have been 8 foot by 8 foot square with a sofa in it, a TV, and a separate chair.

If there were 5 of you in there you felt like you were going to die from lack of Oxygen. It’s on the very top of the building. This place was so small. George had his first number one and started getting successful in America. I had just gotten back from LA. I had come back to England to live. I was working on my own music career at the time.

I went over to see George and he was sitting there. There were 15 or 20 young kids sitting on the step outside his flat. They would just sit there all day long and most of the evening too. Just to catch a glimpse of him as he walked out the door and three paces across the sidewalk into the car. They’d wait hours & hours until he came back.

He would sit signing letters to his fans. I looked at him and he was sitting there with this hat on with the plats and the full works of makeup on. Everything on and completely dressed up in one of his outfits he’d do a show in. Like a play at Wembley arena or something. He would get up and start getting ready. He would become Boy George. That was Boy George, but when you take all of that off you got George. We’ve known each other for so long that even when he did have all that shit on he was still like George to me. In fact I’m the only person I can think of who used to be able to talk to him in a human kind of way.

I was being put in the middle of it and it was vile. I used to call him Blanche like in "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" I told him, "Put your pen down. Blanche. Just try and look at yourself and look how this is right now."

He was basically a prisoner of himself. He was a prisoner in his own apartment in his own look. Behind all that makeup and everything there was George and that façade in the tiny little apartment. He was behind that. He was always behind 6 or 7 layers of something or other.

I said, "Look you’ve already made a ton of money already." It was the middle of summer too. He had all the windows closed. It was like a sweatbox in there and he had all of this fucking crap on. All of these clothes, wigs, and hats. It was the middle of the day and he wasn’t even going out. I said to him, "Come on." First of all I got him to buy a bicycle. We got mountain bikes together.
 

So that George could get out and enjoy life.

What we started off doing was we would start cycling as the sun would go down. We used to go from one end of the city and back again. It was empty most of the time. At 2, 3, 4 or 5 o’ clock in the morning. All that cycling makes you fit.

He felt trapped. He was lumbered with it. It’s okay to have "Boy George" but you must be able to come home. It’s like actors. When they step off stage, wipe off the makeup and the car drives out of the studio gates. They’re themselves. They’ve left the character in the dressing room.

He brought it with him. He was so intertwined and wrapped up in it. He couldn’t conceive of not being like that. First of all I got the bikes. The last thing you want is an ankle length dress on and then trousers underneath that while you bike ride. So gradually he would lose bits & bits & bits of stuff.

That’s what I mean. Gradually lose it. It was totally impractical. I used to tell him, "Take your fucking stuff off." I got him to do it. Then I started with my holiday campaign. He would sit there all day long drinking tons & tons of tea with 10 cups of sugar in each cup. He’d eat cakes & pastries all day long and he was getting REALLY big.

He just didn’t go out anywhere. If you went down Oxford Street or into the West End dressed up like that he’d be surrounded by autographs all day. If you’re going for a book signing or opening of a supermarket or some shit fair enough you got give em their worth.

They had all kinds of crap. I didn’t give it any energy.
 

That’s all great and everything. I’m talking about the person side of things. Theologians and the whole phenomena and the social ramifications were obviously going on. I’m talking about my one friend to another kind of situation. I started with the bike. Then I got him on about the holiday. I told him it has to be somewhere where no one knows you and a place I want to go. I wanted to go to Egypt to see the Pyramids.
 

That’s just the tip of the Iceberg. There’s Thebes, further down the Nile, and The Valley of the Kings. When George and I landed in Egypt we walked into the terminal and there’s sand, goats, chickens, and pigs on the floor. There are people screaming. Everyone is in dresses. The stench and the culture shock are overwhelming

We got into this fucking cab. I don’t know if you know about Egypt. It’s completely traffic gridlocked. It takes you four hours to do what in England would take you 5 minutes. He said he got a fabulous travel agent for a hotel. Yea, it’s fabulous and you could see over the pyramids. In relation to Cairo city it was the outskirts. It was like being in Watts or Compton.

The drive was hot. I didn’t have a scuff of makeup on. He had the whole 9 yards. You’d move 10 or 15 feet and stop for 10 minutes. It took longer than the flight to get to the hotel. In Egypt all they do is lay on the horn. The only time they lift off the car horn is when their arm starts aching then they put the other arm on it. It’s thousands of cars. We were looking at each other & I was thinking, "Oh no, what have I done?" I was freaking out myself.
 

We went for two and a half or three weeks. It took me about a week, a week and a half for him to get the last of the crap off.

To finally "De Boy" the George. It was just me & Gina. It was such a liberating experience for him. We went to all these different markets. It was fantastic.

The thing I couldn’t get him to do was swim. There was a pool for the whole hotel. At the hotel the American Army and Air Force hadn’t had enough barracks for all of their officers.

The whole thing was full of American GI’s. We’d walk into have breakfast and there’d be wall to wall of the finest looking guys. We both brought these brand new cameras & I’d take roll after roll after roll. They all knew who Boy George was. I wasn’t too bad looking myself. We all used to sit with this one particular group of guys. One of them was so, "Oh my God!"

I used to click, click, click, flash, flash, and flash. George would turn to me and say, "Marilyn that guy is going to fucking kick your teeth in. Stop taking pictures of him. Leave him alone." I said, "No, he loves it."

As soon as I woke up George would call and say, "Where are you going?" I’d tell him, "I’m just going for a quick swim. I’ll be about a half hour. Come on George. Come with me." George would reply, "You know I can’t go." I’d then go on my own and have my swim.

He didn’t want people to see him. He didn’t want to be seen without the accoutrements.

That made it a 1,000 times worse. I had my fabulous body at the time. I had dreadlocks and all of that. I had these jackets with little squares of metal. They were like little mirrors. The bottom is the end of your garment and the top of your Speedo. It had long gold fringe. It was held together with circular eye sockets. Circles of Gold.

George used to say, "You’re like fucking Tarzan’s Jane."

One time George & I worked as extras for a little while. It was full of skinheads. It was like Hitler youth. We went to do this film as extras. It was about 4 o’clock in the morning at this designated point. We got dropped off and we started walking towards it. I had a plastic black mini-skirt with the fringe around it, black corset, fishnets, 5 inch stilettos, and an off the shoulder number with a donkey jacket.

Most definitely. We got a little closer and we saw skinheads and not just dress up ones. Ones who’d love to kill you very, very slowly. Like they’d line up and each person would pinch a bit of your flesh and pinch it off of you.

All of that bullshit and they all hated us. We were living in a squat with no money. George kept saying, "Come on Marilyn. Let’s go home." I said, "Are you fucking out of your fucking mind. I have got up at 2 in the morning to get ready and put on all this crap and these ridiculous clothes on. Do you think I’m going home for a couple of bald cunts? You have lost what’s left of your mind. Shut up and follow my lead." I started walking towards them and they were turning around. They where whistling and wolf calling us. They obviously didn’t realize I was a geezer.

George was going, "Marilyn! Marilyn!" I slipped my banks jacket off. I had this thing off the shoulder & a little mini skirt and they were screaming even more. I turned around and got something out of my bag and I dropped a tampon on the floor. I had a tiny micro-mini on with a plastic fringe on. I just bent over without bending my knees. I had these really high stilettos on. I put my feet about two feet apart and bent straight over with my back to them & gave them a look at my snatch if I was a girl. The whole fucking lot of them started going screaming mad. I gave them kisses and in my best Marilyn Monroe voice I said, "Hi Boys."

What was Cyndi Lauper like?

I was living in New York on the upper west side. George & I were living in this apartment together at the time. He went on tour and when he came back we started going out. Cyndi was living in New York. We went over to her loft. It was like me, George, and Cyndi. Halfway through the afternoon Traci Ulman arrived. The four of us just sat around smoking pot. We were laughing. We knew Traci from England. She’s so talented. She still is. We were smoking this really strong grass and listening to music.

Suddenly you were just there.

I can’t remember how we got there. We had the BEST fucking afternoon. We were laughing and telling stories to each other. That night Traci was on the Lettermen show. He was asking her, "What kind of things do you get up to while you where in New York? She said, "I had the most fantastic day. I spent the whole afternoon with George, Marilyn, and Cyndi. "

A lot of people thought you were going out.

Every time I’ve been on an interview it’s come up. Unless you’re kind of gay, bi or more educated about the whole subject. People don’t get it when you say "She’s my sister." Bumping pussies isn’t on the bill.

I saw a picture of you and Grace Jones at one time too.

She used to go to the Palladium. In that particular picture we used to go to the Palladium all the time. There used to be a room called the Mike Todd room. It was the V VIP room. You couldn’t get in there for the love of money.

I don’t know how we got roped up into it. The party sort of came around us. There was this great big cake. She blew the cake out. She takes pieces of this cake and starts flinging it around. She gets two handfuls of cake & she went "Raaah" like she’s a wild animal. Wild Grace! Making sure she didn’t get the cake in the photographers’ camera lenses.

She turned around and looked at me. The next move was forward to me. I looked at her. I was thinking, "Go ahead and throw it. See what happens. Believe me it’s the very last thing you’ll do with that arm. I’ll break your arm like a toothpick."

You think she’s more bark than bite?

She’s pathetic. She bitch slaps people. I went "Honey, I’ll bitch slap you back to Jamaica." I didn’t have one speck of icing from me from that cake. Food fights just aren’t my thing.

I know you've met Madonna.

I met her a few times. The first time I went to go see her at Radio City Music Hall with George. She was starting to become very, very big. George and I attended this party in this tropical garden on top of this massive sky scraper. There was Keith Herring, John Paul Basquiat, all these famous artistic people. We went in there. She was sitting on a stool.

I spoke to Madonna and everything. She asked, "Where are you going?" We said, "We’re going to this Details party." She replied, "Do you mind if I go?" She still had her stage outfit on.

We said we’d wait for her in the Limo. Cut to half an hour or 45 minutes later. We’re still sitting outside in the limo with the engine running waiting for her to come out. George is getting annoyed with me. He said, "What the fuck is going on Marilyn?" After about 40 minutes I said, "Wait right there. I’ll find out what’s going on." I was fuming by now.

I got to her dressing room & I flung the door open. They were all sitting cross-legged. They were all with their chins in their hands and all gazing up at this Empress of Nowhere on the stool. The whole thing was really creepy for starters. All these people were all hugely talented and fabulous in their own right. She’s perched herself on a high stool. Her legs where up off the floor with her heels on the edge of the stool. It seemed like there was a spotlight above her shining down onto her head.

Like she’s the queen?

Not my queen dear. I flung the door open and it went bang. I said, "What the fuck’s going on?" She looked at me and said, "What are you talking about?" I said, "Excuse me love we’re sitting outside in a fucking limo. You asked if you could come with us. Are you coming or you’re not coming because you know we are fucking sick & tired of waiting for your ass." She said, "Oh God you’re very bossy aren’t you?" I said "You have no idea. Are you coming or not coming?" She replied, "I’ve got all these things to do." I replied, "Fine. Next time if there is another next time don’t keep me fucking waiting!" Then I slammed the door behind me. That was really fabulous. There’s been a few more. It was George’s Birthday party at club Area.

Madonna was there?

She came up and it was about 5 to midnight. I was supposed to sing George Happy Birthday and get the crowd to sing along with me in the DJ booth. She’s tugging on me to dance with her, but the DJ booth is like 4 stories above the dance floor. She kept saying, "Please, please dance with me." I said, "I can’t do it right now. What is wrong with you missy?" She wouldn’t let me go. She was pulling and yanking my shirt. She wanted me to dance with her right there and then.

I mouthed to George I’ll be back in 2 minutes. She’s dragging me off down the stairs. It’s packed. We start dancing. Suddenly people all move back 2 or 3 spaces. It’s like a ring of people around us. Amongst all these people surrounding us there were these cameras.

We were dancing together. We had been there for 2 seconds and they started playing "Get into the Groove". I thought, "You have got to be joking. I come all the way down here and we have to dance to one of her records."

Suddenly she stopped dead and pulled me down & whispered into my ear, "Do you realize how good this is for you?" I turned to her and said, "Honey, this is good for you!" I thought, "You fucking cunt." She’s not happy with dragging me down. She just had to say that. I felt really vile afterwards.

Unbelievable. I said I had to go. She replied, "What’s wrong?" Nothing

darling I just have something to do. By that time it had gotten past 12, they wished George a Happy Birthday and the DJ had dropped the balloons. It was going to be a present from me to him. I had missed it. We were walking back up the stairs where she grabbed onto my hand and then she grabbed my cock and balls. I looked at her. She still had her hand there. She said, "Oops I missed your hand."

She said, "Oh my God I just grabbed onto your cock and balls." I thought, "What are you playing? Who is this person and what is she up to?" Maybe she wanted me to screw or something. I realized it that night or the night after where I recorded "The Spirit in the Sky" George had co-produced with me. I sang it at the Palladium with 5 or 6,000 people.

David Gray, Justin Brown, and George were singing backgrounds. I was in the lead. I had these ripped up jeans. I had fringe up one side. The stage is about 6 feet off the dance floor. People’s heads were just a little below me. I sang the song & I had a G-string on as well to make sure the family jewels were all locked up. I shaved my hair into a Mohican.

I did the song really fab. I went into my dressing room & there’s me, Georgiana, and a few other people in this dressing room. There was a great big 6 foot 2 black security guard outside the door.

He asked, "Is it okay to see Madonna?" I said, "Yea, sure, send her in." I sat with my legs apart. She said, "I know where I want to sit." She pushed me back by my shoulders and I sat against the wall. Then she sat on my lap. I’m thinking, "You know I seem to remember this kind of vibe before."

At another time George and I are in our apartment. The phone rings and I pick it up. A guy replies, "Listen, I got a fucking message for you. Stay away from Madonna. If you go one fucking hair’s breath away from her I’ll fucking get your guts and rip them out through your fucking asshole." It was really beyond. I must have gone completely white.

We had this central post. I fell silent. I was just listening to this voice. George turned around and looked at me quizzically. I just held my hand up. The voice went on, "If I fucking see you. You are going to fucking die. You and your Boy fucking Poof de la George will die too."

I put the hand back in the cradle and my hand was shaking. George turned to me and said, "Marilyn, what’s wrong with you?" I was completely shook up. It’s not a phone number you can get a hold of quickly and easily. It was an xxxx directory. At first I was shit scared. Then after I calmed down about 5 or 10 minutes I got angry. I thought you fucking little dwarf bitch. She’s dragging me down.

I called Keith Herring. He was one of her best friends. I said I need to talk with Madonna. I was friendly with Keith. He gave me a code word & number & all that. I called her & I explained to her word for word what had just gone down. I said, "If this has anything to do with you. You could have called yourself." She said, "It wasn’t me."

I said I won’t go to the police now. It sounded like he was Israeli intelligence police. It wasn’t a joke. It was psycho serious. It was really, really vile.

I haven’t had sex since I split up with an ex partner over 10 years ago. People say, "Why don’t you just come off and have really good sex." The thing about it is. I’ve had sex loads of times, but once you’ve made love with someone like my ex you don’t ever want to have sex again. It’s like the difference between a McDonald’s patty or a piece of Filet Mignon.

Making love with someone incorporates your mind, heart, body, and soul. Having sex incorporates your dick, mouth, and asshole. While making love stimulates your whole mind & body. All of those things are connected and sparking and flashing at the exact same time. It’s like you’re a beam of pure white light shooting out into the Universe. Now that’s an orgasm. Now, shooting out a bit of white liquid that ain’t nothing. It’s termed an orgasm.

How did you meet?

He pursued me for months and months and months. I used to be so vile to him. Everywhere I went out he’d be watching me with his chin down. I’d be standing there. Everywhere I went he was just standing right there with these pleading eyes. I thought, "Give me a fucking break." He used to dress up in these stupid looking clothes, wear black lipstick and this ridiculous makeup. He looked like he was dressed up in his mom’s clothes. I think he was like 16 or something (the age of consent in the UK). I felt like an old man next to him. I was only 18 or 19. He was in school.

I thought, "Why are you following me around. Get a fucking life and leave me alone. I don’t care what you want I don’t want to hear the end of the sentence. You demented fan." He’d look at me and his eyes would be all hurt. He was puppy dog eyes. No matter where I was. There he was.

It just went on & on & on. It was a fucking nightmare. One night he was at this club & I swear. I asked him, "Why are you doing this to me? I’ve been horrible and evil to you. Bar knocking your teeth out. What’s going on? I need you to tell me the truth. You can’t lie with your eyes. You can’t keep that act up indefinitely."

I was so nasty to that kid. He doesn’t deserve it. I was trying to make him leave me alone. It didn’t work. This last time I saw him in a club. He said, "I really, really need to talk to you." This is not the kind of place you have this conversation. He said," I’m driving my dad’s car. Will you come up and talk to me?" I said, "If this makes a change." I was at my wit’s end.

I tried everything. We went outside the club and got in. I said, "Look what’s going on? What is this? You need to stop this. It’s crazy." He said, "I can’t." He looked up and said because, "I’m in love with you." I put my head over my face with my hands. I thought this was going to help. This is getting worse. I replied back, "What do you mean? You don’t know me. You don’t have the faintest idea who I am." He said, "I can’t verbalize or explain it. I’m just in love with you."

I then went into my routine of "Look I don’t have sex with people. It’s just not my thing. I have relationships with people." I’ve only had one & a half so far in my life and I’m only 18/19 this year. It’s not something I step into lightly. There are certain things I need. Not only do I need, but I demand to have in a relationship. I don’t sleep around, I tell the truth. I think I’m the best lover/boyfriend you could have.

He said, "Yes" I said, "I think you’re saying yes too quickly and not digesting this information I’m giving you." He went to a school named Westminster. It’s a private school and it costs an absolute fortune. I didn’t even know there was a school connected to the House of Parliament. They’re really brainy, prestigious children. He’s not a dullard or a half wit.

Boys develop much less speedily than girls. He didn’t let me say what I wanted to say & he’d think about it. Right then he started sobbing his heart out. Then I started crying.

Not for me. I was done with all that. He was sobbing and he said, "I love you and I want to be with you." Basically everything I wanted to hear from a guy he said it.

I was scared. He was zeroing in right into my private life. There are different layers & layers. At the core there’s a walnut and even that has a wall of nut around it.

He had gone like a laser beam and cut straight through to the walnut wall & cracked it open. I started crying. I said, "Okay. I can’t fight anymore. I can’t handle it anymore. Let’s just see how it goes." I went over and he reached over and grabbed me around the shoulders. I grabbed him around his lower waist. We were sobbing into each others arms. I was just starting out my career.

It was so dead on and right.

It was the wrong timing. I wasn’t looking for this. I didn’t want it. I just dealt with it on a day to day basis as best I knew how. He was still growing. He was like a boy. After a couple of years he actually turned into a man. He became the center of my universe. My whole world revolved around him.

After a few years I started hearing this, this, and this. It’s like this person has come straight in and when someone is in that deeply. He has got into a depth that no other person, but my mother has gotten into.

I know that I went into a great depth with him. As it turns out not as deep as I thought I was. He let me into a certain depth or place. He made me think it was the same depth I had for him. Spiritually, mentally, and making love.

I don’t ever want to go through something like that ever again. It took me 10 years to get over that. It took me 10 years to be able to accept it. Tough Shit Marilyn! That is the way it is. Deal with it or you don’t.

We went out about 4 or 4½ years. It felt like 50.

I was in one of their videos, "Who’s that Girl?"

What is she like?

She’s a very unique individual. She’s very interesting and all that. Mind you it’s difficult when you’re working on a video and doing small talk. When you’re trying to concentrate on what’s going on and what’s being filmed. Her videos are very scripted and storyboarded.

I’ve lived in America. I used to see the Tonight Show when she would guest host for Johnny when he used to go for a couple of days fishing in Catalina or whatever. She’d step into the bridge. She is hysterical. I was walking along from my office one day. We saw this person bedecked in Oscar De La Renta dress or something.

I said to my friend Patrick who works with me, "Oh God, look it’s Joan Rivers. I’d love to meet her." She had gotten out of a limo and was walking across this place called, "The Piccadilly Theater". She was going to an Andrew Lloyd Weber production called, "Song and Dance". I gave Patrick some money and I bought tickets for the show and Patrick & I walked in. Joan was a couple of rows in front of us. She jumped up and we followed her.

We were in a roundabout with 4 different streets. Right outside the theater there’s a semi-circle and a row of red telephones boxes about 8 of them. She and her husband had walked over to make a call. She started off calm and collective, but she couldn’t get through on the phone. She couldn’t get it to work. I was standing right next to them watching. She kept going, "Melissa’s going to be so sad." At that point Melissa was an 8 year old girl. I found out no matter where she was or whatever country she always called Melissa before she went to bed. She never missed it.

As good as she could be under those circumstances. She turned to me and said, "Do you have any idea of how to use the phone?" I said, "Of course let me try and help you. What are we trying to do here?" Joan said, "I’m trying to call this number. I am trying to get in touch with my daughter. It’s passed her bedtime. Melissa wouldn’t go to bed unless she heard from her mom & dad. I don’t understand this money & I just can’t do it." She was panicking the more you do it the worst it gets. I told her calm down just give me the number & two seconds.

Joan stepped out. I dialed the number got through & I asked for Melissa. It was one of the servants. She said, "One moment, Madam Melissa." You could hear Melissa scream. She thought for the first time ever her mother wouldn’t call. I held the phone out to Joan and said she’s on her way down the stairs. Joan said, "Oh my God thank you so much!" They talked for 10 minutes. The end of 1983 I think it was.

It was only dialing the phone it wasn’t rocket science. I really loved her. The only reason we went to this play is that we followed fucking Joan in. When she finished she came up, "I just don’t know how to thank you. What’s your name?" I said "Oh you’ll never remember. My name is Marilyn, but you won’t remember it."

Joan replied, "You’re a guy and you’re beautiful. You have waist length dreadlocks. You just helped me get through to my daughter. I won’t forget you." I said, "If we ever meet again that would be great. It has been my privilege. I think you’re amazing." Nobody knew who Joan Rivers was except the very scarce few who had been to the states.

She wasn't well known here in England. My record was #2 in the charts. This was about 6 – 8 months later after our previous meeting. I walked into the office in the morning. Patrick and my secretary Carol were working and said "Have you heard the news? Joan Rivers is in town." They said Joan Rivers has been absolutely going mad. She’s arrived in England and she’s been on a couple of TV shows & 3 radio shows. On every single one she was saying, "Everybody who knows Marilyn, he’s a guy with blonde dreads. I need to find Marilyn." I thought she was fucking crackers.

She wanted to see you.

I suddenly got this booking for a show on radio 2 at 4 o’clock in the morning. It was a debate show with 8 people at a round table. It was Jenny Agutter.

Not to me. I don’t know. I wanted to do a Logan’s Run back to my bed. It was her and this other surly bitch. She was on, a Fenella Fielding. She had these long eyelashes, "She’d say darling. It’s wonderful."

What were you debating?

At 4 in the morning I have no idea. It had to deal with the Treaty of Versailles. It’s 4 o’ clock in the morning why am I here. It makes no sense to me at all.

So left to the far off field I was almost in Siberia. I kept thinking, "What am I doing here?" Thank God for Patrick who took me there in the car. About 2 minutes before we’re live on air they said, "Won’t you sit down please?" The door burst open and there is la Joan Rivers.

She went, "Where is he? Where is she? Marilyn! Marilyn!" There were only 8 or 10 of us. She was just screaming, "Marilyn! Marilyn! Where’s my Marilyn? Is he here yet?" She’s talking to me. She must have drunk about 50 cups of coffee.

I said "Joan! Ooh Ooh Earth to Joan" She said, "Oh my God it’s you." Like we were lovers and we had been parted by the sinking of the Titanic. Like I had been on a deserted island for 15 years and she found me. Hugs and kisses for about a minute and a half. She asked, "Did you get my message?" We were doing this in front of all these people in front of these serious, sedate, boring people. She’s screaming all these questions at me.

The producers kept saying we need to get Joan wrapped up. We need to get her mic on. She’s like, "Don’t leave. We have to catch up!"

What did you think of Taboo? You’re in it as a character.

I found it hard portraying my life as its happening. You understand. I find portraying my life this second and every second of everyday hard. Living is not easy.

Do you still have much contact with Boy George?

No

He was still your good friend you must still love him and talk to him?

I have tried for so, so very long to make that square peg fit into the round hole with no sexual connotations. It does not and will not ever fit a square peg in a round hole. No matter how many times I’ve said it and tried it. At the end of the day the point still remains. At some point you have to say I get it. Okay. Enough!

Well, that doesn’t make sense. Firstly, there’s no such person as Boy George. Boy George is a persona that George created for him to hide behind when he was doing his band. Boy George is like me saying, "The Marilyn"

It’s not him!

You can see it at the museum or something. It’s not him.

They thought Taboo was going to be a big success on Broadway didn't they?

Once they start fucking with the characters importance within the show. They fucked with the whole format of the show. It wasn’t weighted correctly.

That was wrong as well.

No, they tricked me into not going.

Many, many things George and his acolytes have done to me are pretty fucked up.

Do you feel it’s a love/hate relationship with him?

I never, ever, ever do hate. To hate someone you have to really, really care about someone to hate them. I don’t hate anybody because I don’t care.

I’d say, "What do you want?"

No, he only went to New York for a couple of months. He didn’t go to Venus for
10 years.

I thought I was, but certain things come to light after the fact. You find out that actually that person didn’t have your best interests at heart as much as I wished, willed, and wanted it to be not so.

We’ve been through a hell of a lot of shit. The thing is if you mix fame and money with people then you really have got a problem. Most people it’s not them that change when you make a lot of money. It’s you and the way you perceive them that change. People who could have been in your life for many, many years suddenly when you’ve got money you look at people kind of like "What are they up to?" It’s very peculiar and hard to deal with.

Every time George got a new #1 or a milestone in his career I was genuinely happy and excited for him. I was over the moon for him and he never, ever believed it.

David Cassidy. I’ve heard he has one of those 11" inchers.

Check out Marilyn's official website at: Maz on the Web
Check out the: Blitz Kids Website where you can see more great pictures from the '80s club scene.