Much Ado About Britpop

7-9 May 1993 - Notting Hill, London

"Don't you have to get to bed, kid," were the first words Damon spoke to Tinsley that night, shortly after one.

Sure, he had opened the door to his apartment and let Tinsley and Juniper in at around eleven. But he said nothing to them, and Tinsley had studiously ignored him, instead immediately finding Justine and wrapping her in a giant hug.

Juniper was the one who thanked him for inviting them in, and had engaged him briefly in a conversation about what Top of the Pops appearances Blur might have lined up, and then asked him a few questions about Alex.

"Don't get with him," Damon swore he heard himself say. "You seem like a nice girl. He's not your speed."

"Maybe I just want a bit of fun," Juniper protested, her petulant tone reminding him quite a bit of his younger sister.

"Look," he said. "Alex really doesn't treat girls well. If you just want a bit of fun, there's plenty of lads here you'd be better off doing that with. Trust me."

"I'm not a child. I'm nineteen," Juniper said with a sneer, and marched off into the fray of the other partygoers.

Damon spent the next two hours with Alex, figuring as long as he made sure his bandmate was accounted for, Juniper couldn't go for him. But around one, he had intervene upon what he had caught Tinsley up to.

He stood by and watched at the awful gig in West Hollywood where the starlet expertly schmoozed his girlfriend, but tonight he couldn't stand idly by as Tinsley rested her stupid round blonde head on Justine's shoulder, listening to her read the Communist Manifesto.

And thus, we reached the point of "Don't you have to go to bed, kid?"

Tinsley looked up and grinned like the cat who swallowed a canary. "No, actually," she said. "I actually have to focus on this crash course in Marxism Justine's giving me. It's really shameful how little I know given my German heritage."

"Come on, I'm sure you've got a packed schedule," Damon asked. "Besides, Juniper may need looking after. I just left Alex alone, and he hasn't had his nightly shag yet."

"You know, it's actually a bit more romantic and less embarrassing if you just admit you wanna be with your girlfriend," Tinsley replied. "I highly doubt you're all that concerned about my health."

"Look, I don't think anyone wants Alex getting to Juniper," Damon said. "Can't you go entertain him?"

"Can't he call an escort if he's so freaking desperate," Tinsley asks, languidly draping one of her skinny arms over the armrest behind Justine.

"Look, he likes you," Damon said. "Well, as much as he likes any woman. But I think you can handle him a bit better than, say, Juniper."

Tinsley sighs, as if she's considering Damon's words, then points behind him. "Who's that with Juni," she says.

They both look across the room where, instead of being manhandled by Alex, Juniper is sat on the floor as a brunet guy with a parted curtain style haircut shows her something on a GameBoy.

"Oh, that's Robbie," Damon said. "He's in this little 'pop outfit', shall we say, called Take That. Basically our country's answer to New Kids on the Block. As if that were something we needed to answer."

"He's a sweet kid," Justine said. "A bit hyperactive and too into the party scene, but he means well. I think he's about eighteen or nineteen."

"Perhaps we could look into if he or anyone else in Take That has a delinquent kid brother with rap star aspirations for you, Tinsley," Damon said. "In case you're getting bored of old Marky."