Lots. One I’ve never told until now, though.
1981 New Years Eve. A grotty pub piss-up in a small, unremarkable, town in the south west. The kind of town where everyone knows everyone else but you don’t necessarily mix with each group. I was 15. Different times, then. I looked older, but was still naive.
Someone I vaguely knew from a couple of years above me at school came in and, for some reason, joined the group I was with.
Accompanying him was a gorgeous, exotic guy. Exotic, because he was most definitely not local. Yes, it was a local town for local people!
Somehow, I ‘got off’ with him. Lots of snogging. He walked me home - which was far. He wanted more, of course. So, I told him I was 15… he scarpered. Politely.
A couple of months later, I turned on Top of The Pops, as was the religion of the times, and there he was 😳
He’d told me his name was John Taylor.
He lied! He was called Simon Le Bon.
I've still no clue how he was mates with someone from that school!