John Cooper-Clarke, London 1981.

Saturday, 1 May 2010 I’d arranged to meet John Cooper-Clarke in the bar in Waterloo Station and even as I was chatting to him over a quick drink, I noticed him periodically looking past me to check himself out in the mirror behind the counter. As we walked to the photo location, I noticed he wasn’t able to go past any sort of reflective surface without stopping to take a look at himself and play with his hair. I think he’s our greatest living poet, and a lovely guy, but he certainly never met a mirror he didn’t like.