THE EMI promotions man in Houston is raving to Neil Tennant about the Pet Shop Boys' version of Where The Streets Have No Name. He's also raving about a ballad on the Roxette album, and the Queensryche single Silent Lucidity.

"We're breaking new ground with that," he enthuses, "it's six minutes and 46 seconds..."

"It's not how long a record is," mutters Neil "It's how long it seems."

This is a fantastic book. It's about America, it's about the Pet Shop Boys, but Chris Heath never once tries to ram his own opinions about either down our throat. Instead, he follows Tennant and Lowe on their 1991 American tour simply taking note of what he sees and hears, his fly-on-the-wall approach in perfect tandem with the monochrome beauty of Pennie Smith's witty, and often candid pictures.

Neil goes to a party in Los Angeles and meets Steven Spielberg. "I've been to the Oscars ceremony," the director tells the pop star.

"Well, of course you have," says Neil.

This is a laugh-out-loud tour diary, with Chris Lowe emerging as a bored, sulky, petulant - yet loveable - brat (be storms off the set of America's premier talk show), and Neil Tennant displaying both the humour and command of language that makes him a delicious mix of Oscar Wilde and Alan Bennett.

Their beloved Lisa Minnelli turns up for the New York show, and politely suggests that dancer Katie Puckrick - yes, that Katie Puckrick - should wear a G-string ("You can see her pubes, and no-one wants to see them").

Things go wrong. The opening concert is postponed at the eleventh hour, some venues are too small for the stage set, Neil's socks are different lengths (!), and the American ers keep using words like "wry", "deadpan", "ironic" and "English".

There are high points. Axi Rose turns out to he their biggest fan and sends them flowers and champagne, some shows are nothing short of triumphant, and a lot of PSB fans declare that our heroes are as good as Pink Floyd.

As the tour comes to a close, Neil Tennant suggests they may never play live again, and plans how he will unwind once it's all over: "I'd like a five-day break in the country; swimming, a roaring fire for those chilly evenings, intelligent conversation, a little light jogging, a fine French chef and the occasional murder for Angela Lansbury to solve..."

A brilliant book, to be read over and over again. How could anyone not love these man?

This was written by Terry Staunton and appeared in an unknown magazine

Special thanks to Mary (Domino99) for sending me a copy.
There is a link to her Funnily Enough web site from the And Finally page.