George Michael’s Tunes In My DNA: I Never Stood A Chance

‍I’ve been a George Michael fan since before I can remember. My not-so-wicked stepmother told me that as a small child, I would sing “faith-ta-faith-ta-faith-ta” while shuffling my arse in the back seat of the Vauxhall Carlton. She says this started when I was about three years old, and it continued into my adult years.

My earliest memory of George Michael is around age seven. I had a CD of Listen Without Prejudice and would sit alone in my room, reading the lyrics and singing along to the record. By the age of eight, I could join in with the whole album, and various others, without needing the insert.

And in 1996, when George released Older, I waited eagerly for “Jesus to a Child” to come on the radio so I could record it to tape. I listened to that song over and over until my mum, Colette, bought me the album, and the whole lyric-studying process started again.

I have always found immense beauty in George’s music. Of course, as a child, I couldn’t understand the context of His bugbears. Still, I became engrossed with what He said and how He said it. His words unearthed new emotions in a young Loic, often spilling over into tears as I wondered what were the causes of George's own emotions. I should have been hanging out with other kids down the street at that age, but I preferred to sit alone and weep along to George Michael.

These days, I still get along well with George’s music and usually discover something new when I revisit His albums. Sometimes it’s a sick groove that I’d previously overlooked. On other occasions, lyrics resonate with me in ways they perhaps hadn’t in the past. He was so open with the pain and love He experienced that I find George to be of great comfort in times of difficulty, and a real hoot when the going is good.

For a long time, I believed my fondness for George’s music was a natural choice. But as I got older myself, I realised this wasn’t the case at all. It was down to Glenn Lepley – my dad. Over the years, I’ve witnessed just how infatuated Glenn is with George, and I’ve concluded that my own love of Him is little different to my hair being dark and curly or my legs incapable of fitting into skinny jeans; Like Glenn's DNA, George Michael’s music runs through my blood. I never stood a chance to be anything else.

‍The George: South Humberside's Most Exclusive Bar

‍‍‍Glenn Lepley, or Leppo as he’s known amongst the people of Cleethorpes, South Humberside, is probably the biggest fanatic of any celebrity I've come across. I'm not suggesting it's too weird, like. We're not talking some kind of purpose-built room dedicated to the man - Alan Partridge style.

Actually, no. I take that back. That is precisely what I’m saying. Leppo knocked up a tidy little bar at the bottom of his garden and called it “the George,” naturally.

The securely bolted door opens outward to reveal a life-sized cut-out of a late-era George Michael performing on stage. There have been countless times when we've been drinking that I’ve caught sight of the standee from the corner of my eye and half-shocked myself off the stool.

It's worth noting that this isn’t even the first cutout he’s had in there either. The initial image captured George performing on stage, but Leppo didn't like it, so he swapped it in favour of one with George smiling. I don’t know what happened to the first, but my brother claims it now lives in Dad's bedroom, where he burns scented candles beside it at night.

The walls in the bar are covered with various framed George Michael memorabilia. My favourite is a signed limited edition photo presentation that takes you through George's many ages and hairstyles. I’m particularly fond of this one as it reminds me of a story my mum told me from when I was a baby:

My mother was a hairdresser back then, and one evening she was busy dealing with my dad before a family function. It should go without saying he was looking for a cut and blow to replicate George's style of the day (circa 1988). Now, I’m sure my mother did a super job, but she isn’t a miracle worker, and the guy wound up in a flap about the whole thing when she couldn't exactly match the pop icon's expensively assembled barnet. “It’s got to be right, Colette! Like George!” he went on. “It’s my special night!”

That poor woman. It makes me think of the difficulties a person must face when partnered with a fanatic. And I don’t know if it was all down to the undercooked perm alone, but Glenn and Colette are no longer a couple.

The George is further enhanced with glorious images of George Michael through the decades. My sister brought in a Faith Tour ‘88 gig poster, which sits proudly overlooking the counter. Close by is a digital jukebox with a USB slot, into which a memory stick containing a large selection of George Michael songs is lodged in permanently.

I say large selection when I mean absolutely every song He ever committed to tape.Dad's got some real prized possessions in there too, and he showed me one such precious item during a drinking session.

He pulled out a weathered wooden box, carefully popped the lid, and took out the contents, handling it with as much care as he'd likely ever handled anything in his life. “What do you think to this?” he grinned. “It’s my WHAM! ticket from Queen’s Hall, Leeds, nineteen eighty-four!”

That's forty years ago now, so it can comfortably be described as an antique. And for context, that's the equivalent of his dad cracking out an admission slip to Duke Ellington at the London Palladium in 1944.

Leppo went on to point out each feature of the ticket, including its cost, stub number, and an unsightly stain that he regrets ever letting happen. He held the ticket out in his palm and told me, “I’m going to Benidorm next month. I want you to take a photo and print it on a shirt for me. The lads will love it.”

Frankly, I don’t have the vocabulary to explain how much joy the t-shirt gave him when it arrived.

Just How Much Love For One Man?

‍When visiting home, I'll usually head to the bar to sit with Dad as he rabbits on for hours about George Michael. It all starts with him pulling out a tattoo on his arm that reads the lyrics from “A Different Corner,” his favourite song. Then he says, “You see, the thing about George is this…” and before you know it, it’s 2 am.

Leppo can talk for so long because his interest in George stretches far beyond the music. He appreciated Him as a person and for everything He stood for. “He had a great voice… he was generous… he was humble… he was fair… he disliked the press… he smoked eighteen joints a day.”

I gave my dad that last anecdote years ago, but he forgot and started redistributing it as fresh information.

Dad was vocal in his support of George’s battles with record companies and the media and cared enough to hope, and probably pray to the Lord above, that George would find some peace. Dad insists the press were vicious bastards and hated it when George hand-delivered a new headline to print.

For instance, Leppo was gutted when a high-as-hell George Michael crashed that Jeep into Snappy Snaps. And to this day, he will bow his head and turn silent whenever the incident is mentioned.

I recently brought up the scene where George rolled out of a moving vehicle. Dad mulled it over for a while before asking “What was he even doing in that position in the first place, that's what I want to know, something wasn't right.” It'll likely bug him in perpetuity from now on.

Glenn's even been known to rethink his initial judgements of people if they talk highly of the man. He told me how he gained a newfound respect for Ronan Keating after hearing him speak so eloquently of George on the radio.“I've never really liked Ronan Keating,” he said. “But after hearing what he said last night, I just thought, ‘Yeah, Ronan's dead on with that. He's alright actually.’”

So, between His songs, memorabilia, purpose-built bar and the rest, my Dad spends as much time with George as he can. I'm certain he's happiest when in the company of Mr George Michael. Remember the first time you fell in love - that magic instant you knew?

Or the arrival of your first-born child. Maybe your wedding day or a wild adventure with great friends. Perhaps an incredible feat of sporting heroism. Whatever it may be, each of us has a life-affirming moment when we realise we’re happier and more fulfilled than at any other time. I believe that's how my dad feels about George Michael each moment of every day.

‍Gift-Giving To The Fanatical

‍So, how does one go about giving gifts to a fanatic? As the son of one, I can tell you that it becomes difficult after a while. He's already got the clock, the posters, the vintage memorabilia and at least one copy of all of the albums. In fact, he recently misplaced his hard copy of Faith, and instead of replacing that one CD, he purchased the entire back catalogue again, doubling up to ensure the same thing couldn't happen in future.

An original gift for Glenn takes the form of a link to a rare George Michael performance deep in the vaults of YouTube, or a DIY t-shirt with an antique ticket printed on it. Or, as was the case for his 60th birthday, a live acoustic performance of “A Different Corner” courtesy of his first-born.

“Cheyenne Bodie Peters is a butcher in a small town in the north of England with a love for Italian westerns and an over-cooked imagination. He believes it is his duty as a progressive butcher to oversee the status and safety of the community, going to great lengths to maintain law and order.

But when he announces a change in the regular sausage recipe, all hell breaks loose in his shop and a feud with the Bowen family starts. It's a rivalry that follows Cheyenne all the way to Almería in the south of Spain.

When he enters a novelty rodeo contest in the Last Chance Saloon, his old enemies appear once again. But this time, it'll take a fight to the death to end the feud once and for all.”