One to 1
WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND? WRITE TO ONE TO 1, ROOM 304, COMMONWEALTH HOUSE, 1-19 NEW OXFORD STREET, LONDON WC1A 1NG. THE WRITER OF THE BEST LETTER WINS A £5 RECORD TOKEN.
Ok all you planks out there. How about getting the old camera snapping and snaffle a colour photie of the one and only Jed O’Toole?
Why does he never get a mention? If it weren’t for him Mark and Brian wouldn’t be able to play the guitar.
We’ve got together a Jed campaign which has been signed by two million people which says: “If you don’t print a picture of the lad himself a few windows in your office will go amiss.” For details of the Jed fan club write to us at G.O.J.A.M. (Give Our Jed A Mention) at the address below.
Jot’s Nike Tracksuit And Greased Back Hair (Alias The Snoopy Freaks, True Scousers), 23 Quigley Avenue, Netgerton, Bootle 10, Liverpool.
To all the U2 fans who I want to see Bono smiling I suggest you obtain the January 1985 copy of International Muso and turn to page 43. Admittedly, Edge is prodding those famous lips into action with a guitar but the teeth are definitely visible.
Yours informatively, Bono’s Sweaty Armpit.
You No.1 readers are a mine of useless information.
Dearest One To 1,
No.1 is by far the most enjoyable magazine in this world, but I still have to register a tiny reproach.
It’s bad enough to live in the US which takes weeks to get all the new releases, not to mention the agony of never, ever seeing any of the very swank, dashing, banana-toting, smooching Londonite rapcallions (who I shall not reveal the names of), but then this business of competitions pops up.
I would seriously consider seling my soul, swearing off chocolate, and flapping my arms all the way to Koala-country for the chance to shake the hands of the Spandau boys. Well, to my VERY great dismay, I can’t so much as enter the contest.
Yes, yes, I know it’s really not possible (just because I live on the wrong side of the ocean) but nonetheless I am quite sad. Isn’t there some sort of contest we somewhat musically deprived foreigners could enter?
Well then, my absolute thanks for your amusing and eye-opening mag. Don’t ever stop!!
Kathleen Hartman, Rhode Island, USA.
PS. Don’t print this part because it will brand me as feeble-minded, but what in the world is a “record token”?
Dear feeble minded, a record token is what you get for Christmas from your aunty.
Boy George doesn’t just appeal to housewives, as Pete Burns so rudely puts it. He appeals to both young and old, which is a great achievement.
Pete Burns, on the other hand, is a disgusting mess. His remark that George only wants “to make a fast buck” was a load of bull. BG is good to his fans, he doesn’t just try and take their money.
Pete Burns is a jealous prat with an eye patch.
Boy George’s Eyliner, Worksop, Notts.
You’ve got to admit that Dead Or Alive were good on The Tube though.
This is an official declaration
I love Paul King and I don’t care who knows it. I’ve got his autograph and a message written personally to me. So there!
One of Paul King’s Luscious Locks Of Hair, West Midlands.
You lucky, lucky person.
Looking through a recent No.1 I noticed a big mistake. Pat Thomas said that John Taylor was born in Solihull but he wasn’t. He was born in the Sorrento Maternity Hospital, Moseley, Birmingham. Fortunately my sister and I were born there too…
Wally Woofter, Moseley, Birmingham.
Funny that. The Sorrento Maternity Hospital being in Moseley. Wonder if there’s a Moseley Maternity Hospital in Sorrento. Probably not.
Help! I’ve got this crazy crush on Madonna. No, it’s not just one of those quick come and go crushes, it’s a devoted crush.
I never liked her much until I picked up issue 88 of No.1 and saw Madonna’s picture. I fell for her straight off.
I don’t play my Frankie records anymore, instead I stay at home and listen to ‘Like A Virgin’ all day. I’d love to meet her and go around with her for a while (but not meet any of her boyfriends) (if she has any).
I’ll never stop buying her records now until I meet her. Even then I won’t stop.
A Doctor Writes: Madonna? Got any boyfriends? Shouldn’t think so.
A little joke. Boy George and Simon Le Bon both died and went to heaven. Inside the gates they saw two doors.
The first one opened and a haggard old crone came out. A booming voice from above said: “Boy George, you have sinned and your punishment is to live with this old lady for eternity.”
Then the second door opened and out came Bo Derek. Simon Le Bon began to congratulate himself until he heard the booming voice again. It said: “Bo Derek, you have sinned…”
Hope you like it.
Paula Costa, Lisbon Portugal
Please either cover Shirley Holliman up or feed her up. She gets skinnier and skinnier. She hasn’t got the arms or the bust for the dresses she wears. She’s like a walking clothes peg.
Does Martin Kemp like walking clothes pegs? It takes all sorts.
Duran Duran Fan. Leeds 16. Yorks.
Waiter! Another bowl of miaow mix.
Please tell George Michael to shave his beard off. I sympathise if he’s lost his shaver but surely he can afford another one? Admittedly, his teeth show up more now but he looked better before.
George Michael’s Toothpaste, Rugby, Warks.
PS I’ve enclosed a razor so he has no excuse to keep the beard.
A pair of secateurs would have been more useful. The office privets are in an awful state.
Why did George Michael have chocolate on his shirt? Because he ate a careless Whispa.
Chris Morley, Saltdean, Brighton
Aeros are better, especially those new chunky ones.
I would like everyone to I know the social life of a Frankie Fan. So here it is:
Monday: Spent the day discussing fashion with Paul Rutherford. Then we talked about the piercing of his nipples.Continue »
Tuesday: Most of the day I was speeding around in the Batmobile with Ped. For the rest I was in bed recovering.
Wednesday: Woke up in bed with Mark O’Toole, had breakfast in bed. Later I ended up washing, cutting, gelling and blow-drying his hair.
Thursday: Had a tour round Holly’s flat. It’s got five rooms, and it took a whole day to get round.
Friday: Nasher took me to a posh restaurant for a four-course meal. He also spoke to me about the new single.
Saturday: Had Frankie round to listen to all of their own records, all the singles, twelve-inchers, albums and tapes. Then I went to a really flashy nightclub with The Lads while Holly and Paul did my washing-up.
Sunday: Had a rest and spent the whole day in bed…
Well that’s how an ordinary Frankie Fan spends her days.
Mark O’Toole’s Toilet Roll (Sue). Carterton, Oxfordshire.
Almost had us fooled until that bit about the washing up. Holly won’t wash up for love nor money. Not even if you let him wear his black rubber gloves.
The best thing in the world I is not Mark O’Toole whispering words of wisdom in your ear while stroking your inner thigh. It is being thrown to the ground and ravaged by Nash whilst he utters such pearls as “get yer skimpies off” and “know wharrer mean like, our kid”. Okay?
Nasher’s Animalistic Tendencies, Brighton.
You Frankie fans! You’ve only got one thing on your minds. And It isn’t Bible Class.
It is now officially autumn in Australia. I don’t know what the weather’s like in England but where I live, in Melbourne, it’s been over 30°C for the last five days. We had no rain in February and brilliant sunshine every day. One day it even reached 42°C.
Sickening isn’t it?
From The Weather God Down Under.
Yes, it is. Maybe that’s why so many Australians come to live in London where It’s always nice and cold even In the summer.
Do you know how long it V takes to read a copy of your mag? On a Thursday morning it takes me the train journey from Inverkeithing to Dundee—
Keep up the good work.
Fiona Steven, West Lothian.
Have a British Rail sandwich on us.
Remember that issue of No.1 where you had George Michael on the cover without a top on? How about getting Andrew Ridgeley to pose like that. This time can we have the bottom half as well, and before you get all excited I mean with his trousers on. Unless you prefer to… oh well.
Andy’s Cute Smile.
No, we would never stoop so low. Your suggestion is below the belt.
I’d like to shoot an arrow dipped in cyanide through the stupid brainless head of the lead singer in Killing Joke. I didn’t bother to find out his name.
I suppose he thought he was being really clever when he announced on The Tube that Paul King used to be a policeman! Shock! Horror!
So what if he was? Will King lose all their fans? Will everyone burn their records?
Just cos Killing Joke are crap and unpopular they have to pick on more popular and talented people. That lead singer is a jealous talentless worm and he’s got vile bushlike eyebrows.
Spit From Nick Heyward’s James Dean Quiff.
Don’t just bottle it up! If you’ve got a message for your loathed one, stick it on a piece of paper and send it to Poison Arrow, No.1, Room 304, Commonwealth House, 1–19 New Oxford Street, London, WC1A 1NG.
This week’s random reader’s chart and winner of a £5 record token.Continue »
- MATERIAL GIRL Madonna
- KISS ME Stephen Duffy
- LET’S GO CRAZY Prince
- SOLID Ashford & Simpson
- YOU SPIN ME AROUND Dead Or Alive.
Paul Crookes, Dinnington, S. Yorks.
This week’s coupon is on page 52.