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				KIM BOWEN by Boy George
						We took the tube to Warren Street to check out a fout-storey house we'd been talking in Great Titchfield Street, deliberately passing by the fashion squat.  Someone shouted from the window and I spun round.  It was Kim bowen, smiling!" Fancy a cuppa?"  I was half expecting to be drowned. She threw down the key and we let ourselves in.  We sat in the kitchen, chatting and drinking tea like a trupe pair of creeps. I was surprised at how nice and common Kim was, just like us, Even in daylight she was glamorous, her flame hair spun up on top of her head, bare feet and a silky white shift dress that clung to her nipples.  Like all students she existed on a shoestring, but that didn't stop her.  Her room was like a Grecian boudoir,  white from floor to ceilling with ruched draping and gold cherubs everywhere.  Her voice was a varnished as her toenails.  All the Warren Street lot had this put-on voice, stretcing their vowels like Kenneth Williams.  Kim's motives were soon revealed, she was after my friend Jeremy. I told her, " He'll have sex with anyone."             BOY GEORGE - TAKE IT LIKE A MAN
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