“Last November I went to a television studio in Manhattan with The Roches. They had just released a very excellent third album which I was fortunate enough to have produced. They were playing a concert at the Carnegie Hall...as we were leaving...an earnest bespectacled young man came up me with a camera and a flash on it. He said ‘may I take your picture?’ and I said ‘no’ and he flashed the camera off in my face. It’s very rare that I lose my equilibrium but on this occasion his ill-mannered behaviour ired me. Rather than say I was angry, anger had me. I was a ravaging beast. My legs although short are exceedingly muscular, enough to make me sprint champion of my early school days, they snapped into action as this earnest young man fled sensing my ire. However, his earnest weedy legs were no match for mine, and my muscular forearm extended itself to him and lifted him off the ground. I banged him up against the wall and exchanged comments on my understanding of the responsibilities of this particular dyad."