“About two years ago, I was out in London with a girl I’d been chasing. To impress her, I got us on the guest list of famed celeb hangout The Met Bar. In other words: I spent a fortune on overpriced cocktails, only to spend the next four or five hours dancing close and pawing each at each other, but still not quite getting it on. So sometime around 3am, I was preparing myself for disappointment again. We were sat at a table, leaning close and chatting… when suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning round, I was startled to find the single, blue, mascara’d eye of Marilyn Manson staring back. We knew the Goth rock star had played a concert in London that night, and had obviously decamped to the bar. All night we’d seen his entourage – an alarming collection of around a dozen women, all covered in fake blood and white face paint – standing around him on strange stilt-like shoes, throwing artistic shapes. And now here they were, all staring quizzically at me. But what I didn’t know was that Marilyn had been watching us all night. And watching me fail with this girl. And before he left the bar, he leant forward, and put his lipsticked mouth up to my ear. ‘Seal the deal, buddy!’ he cried. ‘Seal the deal!’ So hey - I did.”