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Gerry Agar

Paula, Michael and Bob

'Everything you know is wrong' — this was the message to the world that Paula Yates posted above her doorbell.
Once upon a time, a rock god met a brainy bombshell TV presenter who was married to a media 'saint'. When their lives collided, the events that unfolded were too bizarre even for fiction; the very public seduction and intense love affair, the fights, the drugs bust, heartbreaking custody battles, financial deals and the deaths of Paula and Michael were front-page news for months. But the vital facts of the web the lovers wove together were kept secret, and the reasons for their deaths were never clear, even to their family and friends.
Only one person was there to witness every aspect of the story — Gerry Agar. A former publicist and Paula's long-term friend, Gerry's life, both personal and professional, became inextricably tied to those of the star-crossed lovers, and to the one who would be left behind.
This is the stuff of modern legend; a red-blooded tragedy played out in the merciless glare of the media spotlight. Here are the facts, divulged in painful and deeply moving detail, and told with an intimacy that could only be disclosed by one caught in the centre of the storm. This is Gerry Agar's story of Paula, Michael & Bob.
449 afgedrukte pagina’s
Auteursrechteigenaar
Michael O'Mara Books
Oorspronkelijke uitgave
2014
Jaar van uitgave
2014
Uitgeverij
Michael O'Mara
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  • b6323704734citeerde uit4 jaar geleden
    is. ‘I’m praying!’ I replied.

    I returned to Liz’s house and collapsed completely. In my post-traumatic state I found that I could not countenance the idea of taking off my overcoat. I took myself to bed, refusing any offer of assistance from Liz. There I lay, on top of the bed, with the main light on. My eyes would not close and my brain would not shut off, constantly replaying the sight I had witnessed several hours before – someone I loved who’d been part of our family. Liz and Anita suggested that I should see a doctor.

    For three days I did not sleep. I would drop off but instantly wake again in a panic. And I could not remove my overcoat for a week: it seemed to be my final line of defence against this crazy world I was in. Liz took over. She drove
  • b6323704734citeerde uit4 jaar geleden
    He called later and told me that they were bringing in an independent co-ordinator (a freelance journalist) to run the operation, but he remained unsure if it could be made to work.

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