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Met Genesis P. Orridge wheeling his daughter Jeunesse in a pram. Gen was dressed immaculately in a grey suit, grey shirt and dog collar, a gold Psychic TV cross on his lapel. He had bought the dog collar and shirt in Brighton from an earnest lady who asked him which parish he was from.
'I'm a missionary,' said Gen, 'I travel the world.'
'Oh, who do you work for?'
'Young people', said Gen.
'I do a lot of that sort of thing, gays and the like,' she said.
Dressed as a bishop he gets put in first class carriages, people help him with the child, taxi drivers cross busy streets, and everywhere he goes people call him Sir.
'You should try it Derek, it makes a world of difference.'
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I was shocked to see Philip Core's obituary in the Independent. For a moment I thought it was an article on his painting, as it was illuminated by a self portrait. I met Philip quite regularly over the years on street corners. At first I was quite suspicious of his enthusiasm: he was another one of the glitterati - his sensibility seemed out of joint. But I came to realise my mistake. He was much tougher than casaul aquaintance might suggest. His writing on photography and the arts, even the obituaries he wrote for the Independent were perceptive. At the arts lobby against section 28, Philip made a performance,smashing a plaster statue of michaelangelos david in front of the large audience. His uncompromising gay subject matter never allowed him to fit in. Last week, dying of aids, he fought a court case over some Tom of Finland catalogues stolen from him by HM Customs and Excise.
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