Dear L. GaGa,

Tonight my earth stops.
Tonight is the night I see you en concerto from around, hmm, 9:30 onwards.
Over the past two or so odd years since your effing explosive arrival into my life I have sworn allegiance to Gang Ga; fought for your cause; had rows in seminar lectures and committed my night life to dressing comme ta Haus. You complete me. You are the perfect blend of bittersweet musical genius, sartorial jam and humble pie (I refer to Brit Awards ac. speech here). Every viewing is sheer vis-aural orgasm. I thank you.

I find it terrifically irritating when delusionals "dislike" your music. They chastise you for being "too commericial", for "trying too hard" and being, eurgh, "so manufactured". What is highly ironic is that these arse-holes know little to nothing about your aesthetic and your humble begginigs in fickle world of music. Ga, I know you came from NY's underground scene, fought your way through the East Coast's bratty scene to be different and unique and came out as one of the most hard-working women the pop scene has had since Madonna. I thank you.

Your eternal commitment to your work is astounding; you understand what an entertainer should be and that this is your job and damn, you gon' work! Unlike other little poplet madames who strut about in Topshop, take incessant breaks from their work, marry footballers, get off on domestic abuse via the press and really at the end of it produce utter shite albums, you have shown nothing but class and grit. I thank you.

HOWEVER!


Your latest fashion accomplice though is an utter cunt. He goes by the name of Stefan and he hangs with a consort of deliciously tragic tranny messes. Delete.Him. From.Your.Life. I tell you this Ga, he goes behing your back calling you a "DragWag". I can't tell at this stage if this is a good or bad thing but gurrrrrl, in my inebriated state on a Soho street, he nasty! So, De.Lete. I thank you.

Your lovingly,
L