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of nuggets from his people in Los Angeles. They’re awfully helpful, though you have to call them at funny times of day. Then it’s up to you. All the kinds of things girls like to know about boys, you know.”
    Bill nodded. He hadn’t got a clue. The job was an insult. He wanted to be a rock journalist, not a girly-boy impersonator. Anyway, there was something sick about mucking around with little girls’ dreams. You would have to be some sort of desperate pervert to even consider it. The salary was £2,750 per annum plus luncheon vouchers.
    He started the following Monday.
    Within a fortnight, Bill had begun to familiarize himself with David Cassidy’s family history. There was a charismatic stage-actor father who, despite the Steinway grin, seemed to be not entirely enraptured by his son’s overnight superstardom. David, Bill guessed, had wanted to impress the old man who had walked out on him as a kid, but such shattering success probably only made matters worse. Bill thought of his distant relationship with his own father. At twenty-two, the age Bill was now, Roger Finn had not been struggling to thread a new typewriter ribbon through the miniature horns of a Smith Corona. He had spent his days in the sky over the South Downs fighting the Battle of Britain against the Luftwaffe. There may be more daunting men to have as a dad than a Spitfire pilot, but when you were trying and failing to rearm a typewriter it was hard to think of one. Once, and only once, his dad had mentioned the war, taking Bill and his sisters on the train to an air museum. In one hangar, suspended from wires, was an actual Spitfire. So heroic and indomitable had the plane become in the boy’s imagination that he was unprepared for this frail craft. It made him want to cry. It was like a sparrow made from tin.
    In a desperate bid to look professional, Bill popped out one lunchtime and purchased three books in Foyles, one on California, the other on Hawaii, where the star had a house, and the third on horses, which were his hobby. It turned out David had weak eyes as a kid and needed an operation on a squint. Bill himself suffered from color blindness, invariably confusing green and brown. It must have been tough having to wear corrective glasses and an eye patch, especially for a boy who looked like a girl.
    Honestly, it’s amazing the things you can know about someone you don’t know.
    Are You Destined for David?
    David loves every single one of his fans, and he’d love to meet and date each one of you. But as that would take round about 50 years, it wouldn’t be a very practical idea!
    The kind of girl David would fall for would need to have some rather special qualities—because, after all, David’s a rather special kind of guy! Here are the top qualities David always looks for in his favorite girlfriends. How many of them do you possess?
    David is never turned on to a girl just because she’s specially attractive, or has lovely hair or a super figure. He always looks for something much more than that—the kind of thing you can find out only when you know what someone’s like on the INSIDE.
    David loves girls to be bright and happy, smiling and laughing easily, and always looking on the bright side of things. Of course, if you were going out with David you’d have plenty to be smiling about!
    David likes girls with sparkling, free and easy personalities, with just a touch of zaniness and a great sense of humor. He likes girls who are individuals, and who never try to be like anyone else. Most of all he likes girls who are FUN!
    David loves healthy girls with loads of energy—girls who enjoy going off in the country and taking long walks in the fresh air, who like to go horseback-riding or bicycling. David loves all sports, watching or playing, and likes to be with girls who share his enthusiasm—though he doesn’texpect them to be great experts on the games or brilliant players!
    David never likes to see girls wearing lots of