By Ollie Irish
What doesn’t kill you makes you stranger – so said Heath Ledger’s Joker. And there’s nowt stranger than Paul Gascoigne, who seems to unravel a little more each time he hits the headlines. How long before he’s down to his very last marble?
Here’s an extract of Gazza’s surreal interview on Real Radio, in which he attempts to play the negotiator, but with terrible, embarrassing results (Transcript via the excellent Sabotage Times ).
Host: “Hello Paul!”
Paul Gascoigne: “Hello!”
Host: “Good evening – you are live on Real Radio. I just wonder… Tell us about Raoul Moat. The Raoul Moat that you know.”
PG: “Raoul Moat, er Raoul, I knew him years ago. He used to be a bouncer in Newcastle. I knew him a lot of years since I was a young kid, when I played for Newcastle [United]. He was like a gentleman – someone must have wound him up or done summat, right. And all of a sudden I just listened to the radio right, I mean on TV news. Obviously he’s killed someone and he’s shot two. Right?”
PG: “…Doesn’t matter. He’s killed someone. Which is not nice, really. Obviously he must have been on drugs, um, and he’s shot two people, right. Now I’ve heard on the news that obviously the drugs must have worn off. Now he’s willing to give in. Right?”
Host: “I think we have to point out that…”
PG: “…No, please, get a hold of me, no, hear me out… He’s a lovely bloke – I know that – so at the end of the day I think he’s frightened in case, um, he’s put his gun down, I know for a fact he will… He put his gun down but I think he’s scared in case the police shoot him and kill him. The drugs have worn off. All he wants to do is surrender. And at the end of the day when you shoot someone, I think, and er, shoot, kill someone and shoot two others… You may get, what? Twelve days, twelve years, twelve…”
Host: “Paul, Paul, Paul… Well we don’t know about that exactly. But just tell us, what would you say…”
PG: “Twelve years, could be about six years and he’s out. He’s a good lad.”
Host: “If he could hear a message from you, Gazza, what would you say to him tonight?”
PG: “Well I think the police get hold… Listen, I drove from Newcastle in a taxi to Rothbury. Cost a lot of money. I brought a dressing gown for him, um, a big jacket, I brought some chicken, some bread… I know you’re going to love this one: I brought him a can of