(An Open Letter To Robbie Williams)
Dear Rob,
<*dv_2*> Can I call you that? I guess its OK, I mean: thats what all your friends and fans call you. When I say friends, I mean the ones that have been spouting their mouths off in the press lately. Apparently Rob, youre depressed again. You hate being in the UK, you hate the constant pressures of fame and the fact you have to walk your dog at 4am to avoid attention. According to your friends, its become so bad youre tempted to take up drinking again. Robert old chap, allow me to offer you some advice.
First off, might I suggest you look around the world and shut your trap? I know, I know, money and fame do not buy one happiness, but they certainly do a better job of it than no money and no fame. Especially when, no offence, youve bought it all on yourself. Lets face it, youve wanted this all your life. Im sure all those people made redundant by EMI to fund the 80m they gave you never asked to be out of work did they? I reckon theyre probably owed a larger slice of depression pie than you. How about all the single parents, abused spouses or bullied kids that still shell out hard earned cash to buy your records because you inspire them so much? Surely you could stop whinging in front of them.
<*dv_5*> But Im not here to bum you out. Im here to try and help you out. If living your life is so hard, how about toning it down a bit? Constant adoration from the public for 16 years has got to be a bit much, no wonder youre in a tizzy. Heres a wild idea: why not fuck off for a while? Not just a few weeks, Im talking years. Sell up, jack it all in, and go and live on an island somewhere. Open up a bar, mix pina coladas and rum punches (stay off the sauce yourself, youve been very good so far) and relax with your thoughts. Its got to be less stressful than three days at Knebworth in front of adoring fans.
Sorry to rake up too much detail, but the story I read (from your friend, remember) said that you were really happy out in LA, but you got depressed when you flew back to England to prepare for the launch of a new biography and Greatest Hits album. Was that really necessary? Im not a fan of yours per se, but Im pretty sure that a best of compilation would pick itself. Theres really no need to get involved. The lad in the post room at EMI could pick the track listing and itd still fly off the shelves like clothes fly off Jodie Marsh. And as far as the autobiography is concerned, well surely thats what the telephone was invented for. I think that youre letting yourself in for too much there. Surely if youre happy outside of the UK, the simplest plan would be to stay out of the UK.
These next two might sound a little insensitive, but I feel that tough love works. First, please shut up about not being able to meet the right girl. It happens to all of us, every fella in the world. You know what we do? We buy pornography. Eventually Rob, youll find the right girl. I met mine in a cab queue, she told me to fuck off after I pushed in. See? You could find her anywhere; if I can do it, you sure can! There is really no need to chase after Rod Stewarts sloppy seconds.
<*dv_0*> Lastly Rob, I advise you to get some new friends. Seems to me that a lot of your unwanted press attention is coming from them. I know if ever I told my friends I was feeling blue, Id expect them to keep schtum and set about cheering me up. If they ran off to tell the Sunday Mirror Id be most disappointed and Id give them the heave-ho. Friends like that arent good ones, youre better off without them.
<*dv_1*> Im really not taking the piss here Rob, Ive been depressed once before. In 1984 I was into Transformers in a big way. One day I lost Megatron and I didnt get over it for weeks. But we all bounce back. Follow my advice and everything will be fine. True, my advice was to jack it all in, shut up and fuck off. But trust me on this, do as I say and youll be right as rain.
<*dv_3*> Kind regards,
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