Interviews

February 1965

Playboy: OK, we're on. Why don't we begin by ...

John: Doing "Hamlet". (laughter)

Ringo: Yeah, yeah, let's do that.

Playboy: That sounds like fun, but just for fun, why don't we do an *interview* instead?

George: Say, that's a fine idea. I wish I'd thought of that.

Paul: What shall we ask you for your first question?

Ringo: About those Bunny girls ...

Playboy: No comment. Let's start over. Ringo, you're the last Beatle to join the group, aren't you?

Ringo: Yes.

Playboy: How long were you guys together as a team before Ringo joined up?

John: A few years probably, sort of off and on, really, for three years or so.

Paul: yeah, but really amateur.

George: The local pub, you know. And in each other's uncle's houses.

John: And at George's brother's wedding. Things like that. Ringo used to fill in sometimes if our drummer was ill. With his periodic illness.

Ringo: He took little pills to make him ill.

Playboy: When you joined the others, Ringo, they weren't quite as big as they are now, were they?

Ringo: They were the biggest thing in Liverpool. In them days that was big enough.

Paul: This is a point we've made before. Some people say that a man is made of muscle and blood ... no, they don't. They say, 'How come you've suddenly been able to adjust to fame, you know, to nationwide fame and things?' It all started quite nicely with us, you see, in our own sphere, where we used to play-in Liverpool. We never used to play outside it, except when we went to Hamburg. Just those two circles. And in each of them, I think we were round the highest paid, and probably at the time the most popular. So in actual fact we had the same feeling of being famous then as we do now.

George: We were recognized then, too, only people didn't chase us about.

Paul: But it just grew. The quantity grew, not the *quality* of the feeling.

Playboy: When did you know that you had really hit it big? There must have been one night when you knew it had really begun.

John: Well, we'd been playing round in Liverpool for a bit without getting anywhere, trying to get work, and the other groups kept telling us, 'You'll do all right, you'll get work someday.' And then we went to Hamburg, and when we came back, suddenly we were a wow. Mind you, 70 percent of the audience thought we were a *German* wow, but we didn't care about that.

Paul: We were billed in the paper: 'From Hamburg-The Beatles'.

John: In Liverpool, people didn't even know we were from Liverpool. They thought we were from Hamburg. They said, 'Christ, they speak good English!' Which we did, of course, being English. But that's when we first, you know, stood there being cheered the first time.

Paul: That's was when we felt we were ...

John: ... on the way up ...

Paul: ... gonna make it in Liverpool ...

Playboy: How much were you earning then?

John: For that particular night, 20 dollars.

Playboy: Apiece?

John: For the *group*! Hell, we used to work for a lot less than that.

Paul: We used to work for about three or four dollars a night.

Ringo: Plus all the Coke we could drink. And we drank a lot.

Playboy: Do you remember the first journalist who came to see you and said, 'I want to write about you?'

Ringo: We went round to *them* at first, didn't we?

John: We went and said, 'We're a group and we've got this record out. Will you ...'

George: And then the door would slam.

Playboy: We've heard it said that when you first went to America you were doubtful that you'd ever make it over there.

John: That's true. We didn't think we were going to make it at all. It was only Brian telling us we were gonna make it. And George. Brian Epstein, our manager, and George Harrison.

George: I knew we had a good chance - because of the record sales over there.

John: The thing is, in America it just seemed ridiculous - I mean, the idea of having a hit record over there. It was just, you know, something you could never do. That's what I thought, anyway. But then I realized that it's just the same as here, that kids everywhere all go for the same stuff. And seeing we'd done it in England and all, there's no reason why we couldn't do it in America, too. But the American disc jockeys didn't know about British records; they didn't play them, nobody promoted them, and so you didn't have hits.

George: Well, there were one or two doing it as a novelty.

John: But it wasn't until Time and Newsweek came over and wrote articles and created an interest in us that the disc jockeys started playing our records. And Capitol said, 'Well, can we have their records?' You know, they had been offered our records years ago, and they didn't want them. But when they heard we were big over here they said, 'Can we have 'em now?' So we said, 'As long as you promote them.' So Capitol promoted, and with them and all those articles on us, the records just took off.

Playboy: There's been some dispute, among your fans and critics, about whether you're primarily entertainers or musicians - or perhaps neither. What's your own opinion?

John: We're money-makers first; then we're entertainers.

Ringo: No, we're not.

John: What are we, then?

Ringo: Dunno. Entertainers first.

John: OK.

Ringo: Cause we were entertainers before we were money-makers.

John: That's right, of course. It's just the press drivels you into it, so you say it cause they like to hear it, you know?

Paul: Still, we'd be idiots to say that it isn't a constant inspiration to be making a lot of money. It always is, to anyone. I mean, why do big business tycoons *stay* big business tycoons? It's not because they're inspired at the greatness of big business; they're in it because they're making *money* at it. We'd be idiots if we pretended we were in it solely for kicks. In the beginning we were, but at the same time, we were hoping to make a bit of cash. It's a switch around now, though, from what it used to be. We used to be doing it mainly for kicks and not making a lot of money, and now we're making money without too many kicks - except we happen to like the money we're making. But we still enjoy making records, going onstage, making films, and all that business.

John: We *love* every minute of it, Beatle people!

Playboy: As hard-bitten refugees from the Liverpool slums - according to heart-rending fan magazine biographies-do you feel prepared to cope with all this sudden wealth?

Paul: We've managed to make the adjustment. Contrary to rumor, you see, none of us were brought up in any slums or in great degrees of poverty. We've always had enough; we've never been starving.

John: yeah, we say those articles in the American fan mags that 'Those boys struggled up from the slums ...'

George: We never starved. Even Ringo hasn't.

Ringo: Even I.

Playboy: What kind of families do you come from?

George: Well, you know, not rich. Just workin' class. They've got jobs. Just work.

Playboy: What does your father do?

George: Well, he doesn't do anything now. He used to be a bus driver ...

John: In the Merchant Navy.

Playboy: Do you have any sisters or brothers, George?

George: I've got two brothers.

John: And no sisters to speak of.

Playboy: How about you, Paul?

Paul: I've got one brother, and a father who used to be a cotton salesman down in New Orleans, you know. That's probably why I look a bit tanned. But seriously, folks, he occasionally had trouble paying bills - but it was never, you know, never, 'Go out and pick blackberries, son; we're a bit short this week.'

Playboy: How about you, John?

John: Oh, just the same. I used to have an auntie. And a dad whom I couldn't quite find.

Ringo: John lived with the Mounties.

John: Yeah, the Mounties. They fed me well. I didn't starve.

Playboy: How about *your* family, Ringo, old man?

Ringo: Just workin' class. I was brought up with my mother and me grandparents. And then she married me stepfather when I was 13. All the time she was working. I never starved. I used to get most things.

George: Never starved?

Ringo: No, I never starved. She always fed me. I was an only child, so it wasn't amazing.

Playboy: It's quite fashionable in some circles in America to hate your parents. But none of you seem to.

Ringo: We're probably just as against the things our parents liked or stood for as they are in America. But we don't hate our parents for it.

Playboy: It's often exactly the opposite in America.

Paul: Well, you know, a lot of Americans are unbalanced. I don't care what you say. No, really. A lot of them are quite normal, of course, but we've met many unbalanced ones. You know the type of person, the political Whig.

Playboy: How do you mean?

Paul: You know-the professional politician type; in authority sort of thing. Some of them are just mad! And I've met some really *maniac* American girls! Like this girl who walked up to me in a press conference and said, 'I'm Lily.' I said, 'Hello, how do you do?' and she said, 'Doesn't my name * mean * anything to you?' I said, 'Ah, no ...' and I thought, 'Oh God, it's one of these people that you've met and you should know.' And so Derek, or press agent, who happened to be there at the time, hanging over my shoulder, giving me quotes, which happens at every press conference ...

George: You better not say that.

Paul: Oh yes, that's not true, Beatle people! But he was sort of hanging about, and he said, 'Well, did you ring, did you write, or something?' And she said, 'No.' and he said, 'Well, how did you get in touch with Paul? How do you know him?' And she said, 'Through God.' I mean, we both sort of gulped and blushed. I said, 'Well, that's very nice, Lily. Thanks very much. I must be off now.'

Playboy: There wasn't a big lightning bolt from the sky?

Paul: No, there wasn't. But I talked to her afterward, and she said she'd got a vision from God and God had said to her ...

John: "It's been a hard day's night." (laughter)

Paul: No, God had said, 'Listen, Lil, Paul is waiting for you; he's in love with you and he wants to marry you, and he'll know you right away.' It's very funny, you know. I was trying to persuade her that she didn't in actual fact have a vision from God, that it was ...

George: It was probably someone *disguised* as God.

Paul: You wouldn't hardly ever meet someone like that in England, but there seemed to me to be a lot like her in America.

John: Well, there are a lot more *people* in America, so you've got a much bigger group to get nutters from.

Playboys: Speaking of nutters, do you ever wake up in the morning, look in the mirror and say, 'My God, I'm a Beatle'?

Paul: No, not quite. (laughter)

John: Actually, we only do it in each other's company. I know I never do it anymore.

Ringo: We used to do it more. We'd get in the car, I'd look over at John and say, 'Christ, look at you, you're a bloody phenomenon!' and just laugh-cause it was only him, you know. And a few old friends of ours done it, from Liverpool. I'd catch 'em looking at me, and I'd say, 'What's the matter with you?' It's just daft, them just screaming and laughing, thinking I'm one of them people.

Playboy: A Beatle?

Ringo: Yes.

Paul: The thing that makes *me* know we've made it is like tonight, when we slipped into a sweet shop. In the old days we could have just walked into a sweet shop and nobody would have noticed us. We would have just got our sweets and gone out. But tonight we just walked in-and the people just dropped their sweets. Before, you see, there would have been no reaction at all. Except possibly, 'Look at that fellow with the long hair. Doesn't he look daft?' But nowadays they're just amazed; they can't believe it. But actually we're no different.

Playboy: The problem is that you don't seem to be like real people. You're Beatles.

Paul: I know. It's very funny, that.

George: It's all the publicity.

Paul: We're taken in by it, too. Because *we* react exactly the same way to the stars *we* meet. When we meet people we've seen on telly or films, we still think, 'Wow!'

John: It's a good thing, because we still get just as tickled. Paul: The thing is that people, when they see you on TV and in magazines and up in a film, and hear you on the radio, they never expect to meet you, you know, even our fans. Their wish is to meet you, but in the back of their mind they never think they're actually gonna meet us. And so, when they *do* meet us, they just don't believe it.

Playboy: Where do they usually find you-hiding in your hotel rooms?

John: No, on the street, usually.

Playboy: You mean you're brave enough to venture out in the streets without a bodyguard?

Ringo: Sure.

George: We're always on the streets. Staggering about.

Ringo: Floggin' our bodies.

George: You catch John sleeping in the gutter occasionally.

Playboy: When people see you in the street, do you ever have any action?

George: Well, not really, because when you're walking about, you don't bump into groups of people, as a rule.

Playboy: Can you even go out shopping without getting mobbed by them, individually or collectively?

John: We avoid that.

Paul: The mountain comes to Mohammed.

George: the shop comes to us, as he says. But sometimes we just roll into a store and buy the stuff and leg out again.

Playboy: Isn't that like looking for trouble?

Paul: No, we walk four times faster than the average person.

Playboy: Can you eat safely in restaurants? George: Sure we can. I was there the other night. John: Where?

George: Restaurants.

Paul: Of course we're *known* in the restaurants we go in.

George: And usually it's only Americans that'll bother you.

Playboy: Really?

George: Really. If we go into a restaurant in London, there's always going to be a couple of them eating there; you just tell the waiter to hold them off if they try to come over. If they come over anyway, you just sign.

Ringo: But you know, the restaurants I go to, probably if I wasn't famous, I wouldn't go to them. Even if I had the same money and wasn't famous I wouldn't go to them, because the people that go to them are drags. The good thing when you go to a place where the people are such drags, such snobs, you see, is that they won't bother to come over to your table. They pretend they don't even know who you are, and you get away with an easy night.

George: And they think they're laughing at us, but really we're laughing at them. Cause we know they know who we are.

Ringo: How's that?

George: they're not going to be like the rest and ask for autographs.

Ringo: And if they do, we just swear at them.

George: Well, *I* don't, Beatle people. I sign the autograph and thank them profusely for coming over and offer them a piece of my chop.

John: If we're in the middle of a meal, I usually say, "Do you mind waiting till I'm finished?"

George: And then we keep eating until they give up and leave.

John: That's not true, Beatle people!

Playboy: Apart from these occupational hazards, are you happy in your work? Do you really enjoy getting pelted by jelly beans and being drowned out by thousands of screaming subteenagers?

Ringo: Yes.

George: We still find it exciting.

John: Well, you know ...

Paul: After a while, you begin to get used to it, you know.

Playboy: Can you really get *used* to it?

Paul: Well, you still get excited when you go onto a stage and the audience is great, you know. But obviously you're not as excited as as you were when you first heard that one of your records had reached number one. I mean, you really go *wild* with excitement then; you go out drinking and celebrating and things.

Ringo: Now we just go out drinkin' anyway.

Playboy: Do you stick pretty much together offstage?

John: Well, yes and no. Groups like this are normally not friends, you know; they're just four people out there thrown together to make an act. There may be two of them who sort of go off and are friends, you know, but ...

George: Just what do you mean by that?

John: Strictly platonic, of course. But we're all rather *good* friends, as it happens.

Playboy: Then you do see a good deal of one another when you're not working?

Paul: Well, you know, it depends. We needn't always go to the same places together. In earlier days, of course, when we didn't know London, and we didn't know anyone *in* London, then we really did stick together, and it would be like four fellows down from the north on a coach trip. But nowadays, you know, we've got our own girlfriends - they're in London - so that we each normally go out with our girlfriends on our days off. Except for John, of course, who's married.

Playboy: Do any of the rest of you have plans to settle down?

Paul: I haven't got any.

George: Ringo and I are gettin' married.

Playboy: Oh? To whom?

George: To each other. But that's a thing you'd better keep secret.

Ringo: you'd better not tell anybody.

George: I mean, if we said something like that, people'd probably think we were queers. After all, that's not the sort of thing you can put in a reputable magazine like Playboy. And anyway, we don't want to start the rumor going.

Playboy: We'd better change the subject, then. Do you remember the other night when this girl came backstage ...

George: naked ...

Playboy: Unfortunately not. And she said ...

George: "It1s been a hard day's night."

Playboy: No, she pointed at you, George, and said, "There1s a Beatle!" And you others said, "That's George." and she said, "No, its a Beatle."

John: And you said, "This way to the bedroom."

Playboy: No, it was, "Would you like us to introduce you to him?"

John: I like my line better.

Playboy: Well, the point is that she didn't believe there was such a thing as an actual Beatle *person*.

John: She's right, you know.

Playboy: Do you run across many like her?

George: Are there any other kind?

Playboy: In America, too?

Ringo: Everywhere.

Playboy: With no exceptions?

John: In America, you mean?

Playboy: A few.

Paul: yeah, some of those American girls have been great.

John: Like Joan Baez.

Paul: Joan Baez is good, yeah, very good.

John: She's the only one I like.

George: And Jayne Mansfield. Playboy made her.

Paul: She's a bit different, isn't she? *Different*.

Ringo: She's soft.

George: Soft and warm.

Paul: Actually, she's a clot.

Ringo: Says Paul, the god of the Beatles.

Paul: I didn't mean it, Beatle people! Actually, I haven't even met her. But you won't print that anyway, of course, because Playboy is very *pro* Mansfield. They think she's a rave. But she really is an old bag.

Playboy: By the way, what are Beatle people?

John: It's something they use in the fan mags in America. They all start out, "Hi there, Beatle people, 'spect you're wondering what the Fab Foursome are doing these days!" Now we use it all the time, too.

Paul: It's low-level journalese.

John: but I mean, you know, there's nothing wrong with that. It's harmless.

Playboy: Speaking of low level journalese, there was a comment in one of the London papers the other that paralleled you guys to Hitler. Seriously! It said you have the same technique of drawing cheers from the crowd ...

Paul: That power isn't so much us being like Hitler; it's that the audience and the show have got sort of, you know, a Hitler *feel* about them, because the audience will shout when they're told to. That's what the critic was talking about. Actually, that article was one which I got really annoyed about, cause she's never even met us.

Playboy: She?

Paul: the woman who wrote it. She's never met us, but she's dead against us. Like that Hitler bit. And she said we were very boring people. "The Boresome Foursome", she called us. You know, this woman was really just shouting her mouth off about us - as people, I mean.

Ringo: Oh, come on.

Paul: No, *you* come on. I ran up the newspaper, you know, but they wouldn't let me speak to her. In actual fact, they said, "Well, I'll tell you, the reason we don't give her phone number out is because she never likes to speak to people on the phone because she's got a terrible stutter." So I never did actually follow it up. Felt sorry for her. But I mean, the cheek of her, writing this damn article about us. And telling everyone how we're starting riots, and how we're such bores - and she's never even met us, mind you! I mean, we could turn around and say the same about her! I could go and thump her!

George: Bastard fascist!

Playboy: Ringo ...

Ringo: Yes, Playboy, sir?

Playboy: How do *you* feel about the press? Has your attitude changed in the last year or so?

Ringo: Yes. Playboy: In what way?

Ringo: I hate 'em now more than I did before.

Playboy: Did you hear about the riot in Glasgow on the night of your last show there?

John: We heard about it after.

Playboy: Did you know that the next day there was a letter that accused you of directly *inciting* the violence?

Ringo: How can we say that? We don1t even wiggle. It's not bloody fair.

George: Bastards!

Paul: Glasgow is like Belfast. There'll probably be a skirmish there, too. But it's not because of us. It's because people in certain cities just hate the cops more than in other cities.

George: Right.

Paul: There were ridiculous riots last time we were there - but it wasn't riots for us. The crowd was there for us, but the riots after our show ...

Ringo: All the drunks come out, out of the pubs.

Paul: ... it was just beatin' up coppers.

Playboy: They just used the occasion as a pretext to get at the cops?

George: Yeah.

Paul: In Dublin this trip, did you see where the crowd sort of stopped all the traffic? They even pulled a driver out of a bus.

John: They also called out the fire brigade. We had four engines this time.

Paul: Well, it's vaguely related, I suppose. It's got *something* to do with it, inasmuch as the crowds happen to be there because of our show.

John: But nobody who's got a bit of common sense would seriously think that 15-year-old girls are going round smashing shop windows on account of us.

George: Certainly not. Those girls are *eight* years old.

Playboy: This talk of violence leads to a related question. Do you think there'll be another war soon?

George: Yeah, Friday.

Ringo: I hope not. Not just after we1ve got our money through the taxes.

John: The trouble is, if they do start another war, then everybody goes with you.

Playboy: Do you think the Rolling Stones will be the first to go?

Paul: It won't matter, because we'll probably be in London or Liverpool at the time, and when they drop the bomb, it'll be in the middle of the city. So we probably won't even know it when it happens.

Playboy: I brought this up for a reason, fellows. There was an essay not long ago in a very serious commentary magazine, saying that before every major war in this century, there has been a major wave of public hysteria over certain specific entertainers. There was the Irene Castle craze before World War I ...

Paul: Oh, yes.

George: I remember that well.

Playboy: And then, before World War II, there was the swing craze, with Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw, and all the dancing in the aisles. And now *you* - before ...

John: Hold on! It's not our fault!

Playboy: We're not saying you may have anything to do with inciting a war ...

Paul: Thanks.

Playboy: But don't you think you may be a symptom of the times, part of an undercurrent that's building up?

Paul: that sort of comparison just falls down when you look at it, really. It's just like saying that this morning a fly landed on my bed and I looked at my watch and it was eight o' clock, and that therefore every morning at eight o' clock flies land on the bed. It doesn't prove anything just cause it happens a few times.

Playboy: Let's move on to another observation about you. Did you know that the Duke of Edinburgh was recently quoted as saying he thought you were on your way out?

John: Good luck, Duke.

George: No comment. See my manager.

Paul: He didn't say it, though. There was a retraction, wasn't there?

John: Yeah, we got a telegram. Wonderful news.

Paul: And we sent one back. Addressed to "Liz and Phil".

Playboy: Have you ever met the Queen?

John: No, she's the only one we haven't met. We've met all the others.

Paul: All the mainstays.

Playboy: Winston Churchill?

Ringo: No, not him.

John: He's a good lad, though.

Playboy: Would you like to meet him?

George: Not really. Not more than anyone else.

Paul: I dunno. Somebody like that you wish you could have met when he was really at his peak, you know, and sort of doing things and being great. But there wouldn't be a lot of point now, because he's sort of gone into retirement and doesn't do a lot of things anymore.

Playboy: Is there any other celebrity you *would* like to meet?

Paul: I wouldn't mind meeting Adolf Hitler.

George: You could have every room in your home papered.

Playboy: Would you like to meet Princess Margaret?

Paul: We have.

Playboy: And how do you like her?

Ringo: OK. And Philip's OK, too.

Playboy: even after what he supposedly said about you?

Ringo: I don't care what he said; I still think he's OK. He didn't say anything about me personally.

Paul: Even if he *had* said things about us, it doesn't make him worse, you know.

Playboy: Speaking of royalty ...

Paul: Royalty never condemns anything unless it's something that they know everybody else condemns.

Ringo: If I was royal ...

Paul: If I was royal I would crack long jokes and get a mighty laugh. If I was royal.

Playboy: You guys seem to be pretty irreverent characters. Are any of you churchgoers?

John: No.

George: No.

Paul: Not particularly. But we're not antireligious. We probably seem to be antireligious because of the fact that none of us believe in God.

John: If you say you don't believe in God, everybody assumes you're antireligious, and you probably think that's what we mean by that. We're not quite sure *what* we are, but I know we're more agnostic than atheistic.

Playboy: Are you speaking for the group or just yourself?

John: For the group.

George: John's our official religious spokesman.

Paul: We all feel roughly the same. We're all agnostics.

John: Most people are, anyway.

Ringo: It's better to admit it than to be a hypocrite.

John: The only thing we1ve got against religion is the hypocritical side of it, which I can't stand. Like the clergy is always moaning about people being poor, while they themselves are all going around with millions of quid worth of robes on. That's the stuff I can't stand.

Paul: A new bronze door stuck on the Vatican.

Ringo: Must have cost a mighty penny.

Paul: But believe it or not, we1re not anti-Christ.

Ringo: Just anti-Pope and anti-Christian.

Paul: But you know, in America ...

George: They were more shocked by us saying we were agnostics.

John: they went potty; they couldn't take it. Same as in Australia, where they couldn't stand us not liking sports.

Paul: In America they're fanatical about God. I know someone over there who said he was an atheist. The papers nearly refused to print it because it was such shocking news that someone could actually be an atheist. Yeah, and admit it.

Ringo: He speaks for all of us.

Playboy: To bring up another topic that's shocking to some, how do you feel about the homosexual problem?

George: Oh yeah, well, we're all homosexuals too.

Ringo: Yeah, we're all queer.

Paul: But don't tell anyone.

Playboy: But seriously, is there more homosexuality in England than elsewhere?

John: Are you saying there's more over here than in America?

Playboy: We're just asking.

George: It1s just that they've got crewcuts in America. You can't spot 'em.

Paul: There's probably a million more queers in America than in England. England has its scandals - like Profumo and all - but at least they're heterosexual.

John: Still, we do have more than our share of queers, don'1t you think?

Paul: It seems that way because there are more printed about them over here.

Ringo: If they find out that somebody is a bit bent, the press will always splash it about.

Paul: Right. Take Profumo, for example. He's just an ordinary ...

Ringo: Sex maniac.

Paul: ... just an ordinary fellow who sleeps with women. Yet it's adultery in the eyes of the law, and it's an international incident. But in actual fact, if you check up on the statistics, you find that there are hardly *any married* men who've been completely faithful to their wives.

John: *I* have! Listen, Beatle people ...

Paul: All right, we know John's spotless. But when a thing like that gets into the newspapers, everybody goes very, very, Puritan, and they pretend they don't know what sex is about.

George: They get so bloody virtuous all of a sudden.

Paul: Yes, and some poor heel has got to take the brunt of the whole thing. But in actual fact, if you ask the average Briton what they really think of the Profumo case, they'd probably say, "He was knockin1 off some bird. So what?"

Playboy: Incidentally, you1ve met Mandy Rice-Davies, haven1t you?

George: What are you looking at *me* for?

Playboy: Because we hear she was looking at *you*.

John: We did meet Christine Keeler.

Ringo: I'll tell you who *I* met. I met what's-her-name - April Ashley.

John: I met her too, the other night.

Playboy: Isn't she the one who used to be a man, changed her sex and married into the nobility?

John: That's the one.

Ringo: She swears at me, you know. But when she sobers up she apologizes.

John: Actually, I quite like her. Him. It. That.

Paul: The trouble with saying something like "Profumo was a victim of circumstances" or "April Ashley isn't so bad, even though she's changed sex" - saying things like that in print to most people seems so shocking; whereas in actual fact, if you really think about it, it isn't. Just saying a thing like that sounds more shocking than it is.

Ringo: I got up in the Ad Lib the other night and a big handbag hit me in the gut. I thought it was somebody I knew; I didn't have any glasses on. I said "Hello" and a bloody big worker "Arrgh." So I just ran into the bog. Because I'd heard about things like that.

More from this interview to The Beatles