Eddie died last night. Cruelly and quite suddenly. He didn't even make 50. Eddie is, was, the wealthy boggle-eyed wife-seeking missile of an earlier post, and one of my most loved friends. He never got to read any of my stuff, and I never got to read any of his, although we were both heading towards a reveal. He wasn't actually boggle-eyed, at all. He was a handsome dude, a little barrel-chested in his forties, like a foul-mouthed but jovial London gangster: think Bob Hoskins crossed with Tom Hardy. In his twenties and thirties he was a rock god, all leather and hair and jewellery, like Russell Brand's stylist had dressed Tom Hardy and sprinkled him with even more talent and intelligence, before being taken out and shot, just in case anyone connected Eddie with Russell Brand. I don't think they ever met, but Eddie was styled like that while Russell was still wearing his school tie in a slightly daring fashion. Eddie pioneered that shit. Eddie and I met on ou
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