Anyway. Yesterday morning, as I walked past the London Assembly building, I passed a small, silent, non-storm of protestors. They held up banners saying things like, 'Don't drive us round the bend, Boris', in an effort, I surmised, to persuade the mayor not to scrap bendy buses.
And there, at the eye of the gentle breeze, stood a diminutive figure, impassive under an army-style cloth cap and enormo-shades.
It might not have been Bono. But it looked EXACTLY like him. Small (I can say this, a friend of mine worked on a photoshoot with him and saw his Cuban heels at close range), with sunglasses, and sending out an air that said, 'Drink in my very presence, because I am bloody well Bono.'
Bono loves a protest. He's hot for a petition. Most likely, he simply cannot accept all the invitations he gets to hoist banners in the name of suffering children, lame trees, down-and-out animals, ailing buildings and people who, for the love of God, want to hold on to those bendy buses. Luckily, he has an army of lookalikes – he probably even calls them Bono's Army – who are keen to supplement the income they get from being a member of Achtung Maybe or With Or Without Them, or whatever, with a bit of stand-in campaign work. After all, times are hard, and those sunglasses don't come cheap.
In fact, I think this troupe of doppelganger activists represent yet another humanitarian gesture on Bono's part. In this case, he's specifically supporting FauxBonos (that would be so much better if I could spell it FoBonos) who can't sing a note and have been kicked out of Even Better Than The Real Thing for being much, much worse. Bono is honestly a hell of a guy.