are pop stars eccentric?

Not quite the title of one of Gary Numan’s two hits but appropriate I hope. A nice feature today in the Independent’s property section on Gary’s choice of home – a Gothic-themed estate in Sussex. He’s clearly got some odd tastes – everywhere is painted red, he has swords hanging in the hallway and up the stairs (he’s a big fan of Lord of the Rings…) and underneath the stairwell sits a stuffed white Alaskan timber wolf. Eh? Well apparently he spotted it in an airport shop in Seattle, kids were climbing over it and he thought it was undignified. So, he did what any self-respecting animal rights activist would do – he bought it and brought it home to the wilds of Sussex with the intention of setting it in a tundra scene complete with ice and mural. That’s still to be built but never mind ‘he’s a happy wolf now’ accordingly to Gary.

I wonder if his 3 young daughters are equally happy at the thought of this rabid looking beast staring out menacingly as they climb the stairs to bed (past all the monster swords)? I’m sure they rarely have nightmares. But on the subject of daughters, I just had to tell you how commonly-named Gary from Staines and his equally sensibly-named missus Gemma, have approached the naming game. He might have been an 80’s punk but could he resist the temptation like the other celebrities from an earlier posting to saddle his daughters with odd-ball names? Er no. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the late arrivals at the celebrity sprog ball; Misses Raven, Persia and Echo Numan……….I kid you not.

Is it just me or does anybody else out there find it incredible that virtually all people in the public eye (Gary had two hits more than 20 years ago) seem to feel the need the call their kids just the most ridiculous f**king names. You just know that poor little Echo, aged 8 months, is going to grow up and everytime she tells someone her name they’re going to cup their hand to the ear and go ‘Say again’. You can see it coming can’t you and one day she’s going to steal into Gary’s hangar, pour petrol over his collection of planes and smile like a wicked timber wolf as she chucks a lighted match over them.

Shocking but not surprising. You read it here first folks.



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