Sebastian Horsley

SUCK MY NAZI COCK

This Questionnaire has just been published in Hotpress. It is entitled Mad Hatter’s Box.

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Who would be the last person you would invite to your birthday party?

Myself. To be an ideal guest, stay at home.

Who would be the first person you would invite to your birthday party?

HRL His Royal Lowness - Satan.

Favourite saying?

Act like a pig, feel like a God.

Favourite record?

Appetite for destruction - Guns N' Roses.

Favourite book?

Dandy in the Underworld. I express in prose of incomparable grandeur thought of an unparalleled brilliance.

Favourite film?

Any film, even the worst, is better than real life.

Favourite author?

Am I the best author of my time? I'd say I was in the top one.

Favourite actor / actress?

None. An actor is a man who tries to be everything but himself. A ghost looking for a body to inhabit.

Favourite musician?

Marc Bolan. He had one foot in heaven, the other in Woolworth's.

Most embarrassing moment of your life?

Being born.

Favourite food/drink/stimulant?

I like to be woken every morning with stimulants in order that I may drift through the day on sedatives.

TV programme?

None. Television is an idiot lantern. Don’t you wish there was a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence? There’s one called “Brightness” but it doesn’t work.

Favourite TV personality?

TV personality is an oxymoron. Like the witty woman or the happy Horsley. God forgive us for putting two such words together.

Favourite item of clothing?

At the moment I am swanning sexily around in a haze of self-adoration and a shimmering red sequin suit.

Most desirable date?

The advantage of poor vision is that you can date anybody.

Favourite method of relaxation?

I like to go off to the brothel to get a good housemaids wank.

If you weren't pursuing your present career, what other career might you have chosen?

I have never had a career - but I think I would do a splendid job as one of the handsomest men in the world.

Biggest thrill?

Collecting Gloriana. What’s that? My own press cuttings.

Biggest disappointment?

I have such a strong sense of the disappointingness of existence and the even more mortifying inadequacy of the illusions with which we distract ourselves.

Your concept of Heaven?

Hell. Hell is the red-light district of Heaven.

Your concept of Hell?

Heaven. Heaven is the bourgeois district of Hell

What would be your dying words?

"If this is dying, I don’t think much of it. For the amount of publicity its got its a bit of an anti-climax."

Greatest ambition?

To rest on my laurels, until they become wreaths.

Period of history you'd most like to have lived in and why?

The Regency. Whatever happened to the good old days when children worked in factories?

If you weren't a human being which animal would you have chosen to be?

Any animal that was delicious and fitted well.

If you were told that the world was ending tomorrow morning, how would you react/what would you do?

Celebrate. I eagerly await the end of the world as the ideal solution to all of its ills.

Your nominee for the world's best-dressed person?

Myself. I always dress well beyond the call of beauty.

Favourite term of abuse?

Showing off. It is the only sure bait when you angle for abuse.

Biggest fear?

None. When you're fallen you fear no fall.

Humanity's most useful invention?

Me. I am someone who could not have been invented if the whole world had sat up all night.

Humanity's most useless invention?

Me. I am intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a purpose.

THE SCARLET HARLOT

I have just published this piece in a woman porno magazine called Scarlet :

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I keep reading that practically everyone on the planet is a dandy and it most annoying. We can’t all be stars because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as I go by.

So what is dandyism? Dandyism is a form of self-worship which dispenses with the need to find happiness from others - especially women. It is a condition rather than a profession. It is a defence against suffering and a celebration of life. It is not fashion; it is not wealth; it is not learning; it is not beauty. It is a shield and a sword and a crown - all pulled out of the dressing up box in the attic of the imagination.

Wilde and Brummell are usually held up as the progenitors of dandyism but neither of these men were dandies in my not very humble opinion. Mr Brummell was aspirational and no real dandy is aspirational. As for Wilde? What a phoney he was! And not even a real phoney! He bred for a start, and no dandy worth the name breeds. He must defeat the species role of his body at all costs. The only place a dandy would push a pram is into The Thames.

This misrepresentation continues in modern times. The idea that David Beckham is a dandy is absurd. Dandyism is social, human and intellectual. It is not a suit of clothes walking about by itself. If Mr Beckham’s IQ had been two points lower he’d have been a tree somewhere.

Russell Brand is called a dandy. I suspect he is in costume. He practices Yoga, vegetarianism and other diseases of the soul. Hare Krishna? A real dandy is more Hari Kari. He fucks Miss Moss. A real dandy would tell Miss Moss to fuck herself. Worse, he recently did Earth Aid! This is unforgivable. The dandy remains deaf to the call of social justice. The depletion of his hairspray is more important to him than the depletion of the ozone layer. Convictions are for dullards, whose earnestness - the worst crime in the dandy’s book - is there to be mocked. As for human rights? Quite obviously he couldn’t give a toss ; he could hardly manage to be interested in the rights of his cock.

Tracey Emin has been called a dandy! The idea that a woman can be a dandy is preposterous. There are no female dandies for the same reason that there is no female Mozart or Jack the Ripper. The key attribute of dandyism - detachment - cannot come from someone with womb. How can one possess style with some pissy farty stink-grub hanging off one’s blubber udder? Forget it, darling. Women are on this planet only as trumpets of our glory.

So who are the real dandies? Baudelaire, Quentin Crisp, Bunny Roger, Tintin, Marc Bolan, Johnny Rotten, Robin Dutt and me - not in order of importance, I hasten to add. All these dandies are roped together like mountaineers heading for the summit of beauty. You see my darlings, true dandyism is rebellious. The dandy is part warrior, part stargazer, part gambler, part crusader, part plunderer, part violator, part martyr. He is fit for the highest and the lowest society - and keeps out of it.

To be a dandy is to aspire to the sublime. Dandyism isn’t image encrusted with flourishes. It’s a way of stripping yourself down to your true self. You can only judge the style by the content and you can only reach the content through the style.

Dandies are a brotherhood of higher types. The true princes of the world. The true priests of the world. Like precious stones, their personalities derive their value from their scarcity. Fancy a fuck?