Rupert Everett is an actor who knows all the leading ladies of showbusiness — and now he’s written a deliciously witty and mischievous autobiography, laying bare his riotous life as their confidant.Yesterday, in our first extract, he painted outrageous but affectionate portraits of Sharon Stone, Paula Yates and Julia Roberts.
Yet everything was a pale imitation of the impact Madonna made on me. One morning in Los Angeles, I was with Mel, a scriptwriter friend, in a car at traffic lights on Sunset Boulevard.
We were on our way home from breakfast in some faraway dive where I was told Jimi Hendrix wrote Are You Experienced. It was 1985, the time of the brat pack in Hollywood, and there wasn’t much around for a tall, thin English freak.
Walking in the footsteps of tragic heroes like Hendrix was the sort of thing I did to pass the time.'Omigod,' Mel suddenly whispered, nudging me hard in the ribs. Wave back.' While the light was red, we volleyed compliments from car to car and swopped numbers.
The next day he called and asked us to come over for dinner.
People had been calling non-stop, always for us, and Fred was seething. Instead, he jumped from his chair and ran around the room like a laboratory primate, clutching his face with his hands and rubbing them up and down his body. It was one of the most disastrous nights on record. Then a sudden freak storm began to howl around the house, the upstairs terrace collapsed into the garden and the wind blew the smoke from the fire back down the chimney into the room.
His lips twitched involuntarily into an anguished scowl.‘Rupert Everett’s residence,’ he said sarcastically, in an English drawl. By the time Tony and Candy arrived you could hardly see.
And when Madonna finally appeared with Alek Keshishian, the documentary film-maker, they both ignored Tony and Candy.
To be fair, they could hardly see each other in the smoke-filled room.
The place was on Mulholland Drive, the road of stars' homes that winds along the ridge of the Hollywood hills. A Chinaman in a white coat and gloves led us through to the kitchen where Warren Beatty, Twiggy and Sean were having coffee. 'These are made by Molly Ringwald’s mother,' he said.