Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

18. Festina Lente (Hurry Slowly)

H.G.
London, U.K - New York, U.S.A
November, 29th - December 3rd

"Do you think I could have pulled Roger Taylor?"

"You're a woman with a heartbeat aren't you?" I murmured irritably.

A cushion was lobbed at the back of my head, causing me to bite my tongue with surprise. "Annie!" I hissed with annoyance. "I'm trying to work, so can you please—"

"You were meant to say, 'you're a beautiful lady Anne, Roger Taylor would have been lucky to have you'."

"You're married to my brother, I don't want to encourage adultery." I sniffed.

"I obviously meant back before I was married. What year is this video from?" Anne gestured towards the television set where a young Queen were giving it socks.

I squinted at the television, "1973, I think. Have you seen my glasses darling?" I patted about my jacket.

"Honestly," Annie sighed and ignored me, "I would let Roger and Freddie ruin my marriage."

"Oh my god!" I whirled around to face Anne, "Shut up."

Anne ruffled the hair on the back of my head, "I wish we could trade jobs, this seems like a dream," and with that, she finally decided to leave me alone, "Call me if you need anything."

I was sitting cross legged in front of the television, surrounded by piles upon piles of interview transcripts, magazine articles, and photographs. My boss seemed to love the ten years of Queen idea, especially because the Rolling Stone was the only magazine that was getting such exclusive material from Freddie Mercury. Well, that may not be the case anymore. It wasn't going to be just an article anymore, but rather a special feature, which meant a hell of a lot of extra work for me. Summarising ten years of success into a few pages was no easy task.

I lit up a cigarette, and took a few greedy gulps of nicotine. The most difficult part of the special was picking Queen's top ten tracks from a catalogue of many, but I was going to get help from the other critics with that part.

I glanced down at the notebook in my lap, where I had scratched 'Somebody to Love' as number one, which I thought obvious. 'Bohemian Rhapsody' I placed second, even though I knew people would have it put first. My ranking, my rules, but I knew 'legacy', 'public popularity', 'sales', etcetera had to factor into the listing. I would have chosen a few less commercial songs if it had been simply a matter of personal taste.

Listening to a constant barrage of early 70s Queen records was quite the colourful experience based on the complexities of their earlier work. I knew a headache would probably be on the cards later due to the unhealthy condition of over stimulation and fatigue. Oh, and constantly torturing myself with self-loathing and self-pity.

And I haven't even factored in the sodding run I have to take part in later.

It was also difficult to watch Freddie be his larger than life self on stage. I had tried to make myself dislike him over the recent days, but no half arsed reason I concocted stuck. Now, immersed in Queen, I was slowly being won over by his talent... and his appearance.

I was almost glad of the running distraction. Almost. I needed fresh air by the time I had watched a few minutes of Queen's performance at the Odeon in 1979, for no reason whatsoever.

"Bloody hell Griff." George wheezed, "Slow down."

I skidded to a halt, "My, you have let yourself go."

"You've just turned thirty," George clasped his hand on the crook of my elbow as he hunched over, "I'm closer to forty, give me a sodding break."

George and I were roped into representing the family for what was called a 'charity run'. Apparently, the new fad of the London Marathon had been a successful way of raising funds for charity in the past two years. This particular event had been 'organised' by the Prince and Princess of Wales, in order to raise money to research whatever disease they deemed en vogue at the time. My mother and father were horrified when I made a comment suggesting that the Queen could simply sell off one of the Royal Family's stolen gems instead of making the working man and woman donate their hard earned money, and run.