We were approaching Madrid airport on an Iberia flight from Barcelona when our tour manager, who was sitting next to me, grabbed hold of my left leg. I said, ‘Fuck off Ian,’ but he wouldn’t let go so I hit him. I then looked at the other passengers and noticed they had the same look of complete panic on their faces as he did. I asked him what was wrong and he said, ‘We nearly died.’ Apparently, the plane had approached the runway almost on its side with the left wing no more than six feet off the ground. Just before impact, the pilot had managed to right the plane so avoiding disaster and probably our death. For the rest of the day, everyone got completely drunk and told all and sundry how much they loved them. I felt strangely distant as I had not shared the experience.
It’s important that Oasis are rude about everybody and that they get drunk. That’s what people like you want, and you encourage them. Fair enough. It’s nice, isn’t it? But it’s nothing to do with me. They came to see us in Manchester and they were very pleasant boys. Very nice. I’d like to see that as a quote. Oasis are very nice boys.
We really annoy our peers quite immensely. Which is amusing. The Manic Street Preachers feel compelled to indulge in onstage outbursts about us.
I feel an all-consuming feeling that we’re laying our world to waste and there’s little I can do about it except say there’s nothing I can do and eat Indian curry.
I am genuinely inspired by my mum. I love and respect my mum and I think she’s great. She always makes me laugh and I trust her totally. Both my parents are artists and I grew up in quite a liberal home; I was allowed to do what I wanted, but all based on a strong moral foundation. I think it’s really important that parents allow you to do what you like when you’re young because you’re more likely to get it all out of your system. I do love my mum.
I wouldn’t get a hard on looking at a bloke but I like the idea of bisexuality. I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson. And as far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a little taste of that particular fruit, or I’ve been tasted, you might say. But when you get down to it, you can’t beat a good pair of tits.
It’s extraordinary that 16 year olds thrust their breasts at me and ask me to sign them. But they do.
It’s not easy for us to talk about girls. We’re not very articulate on the subject. Sexual energy is too tiring for me.