A profile of the television dramatist Dennis Potter. I met him early one morning in his agent’s office, near Covent Garden. He was still drinking wine from the previous night’s party connected to the launch of ‘Lipstick On Your Collar’ - agonising but lucid. Published in the Guardian, 15 February 1993.
It was, in its own way, vintage Potter. There he was last week at the press screening of Lipstick On Your Collar: it was one of those buffet meals which is bound to be incredibly stressful, not least because holding plates and forks is nigh on impossible for a man with his condition. But then he started to talk and the flow, once started, carried him off and he only had to open the next day’s paper to see the result. Throwing conventional media tact to the wind, he had laid into Michael Green, chairman of ITN, for donating money to the Conservative Party. And then he had started to make disclosures that he really did regret about his wife’s recent illness.
‘The problem,’ he remarked, ‘is that I have been a recluse for so long, and you forget how to behave in public’…
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