John Crace’s abridgement of Christopher Ciccone’s book, in The Guardian:
My relationship with Madonna takes a turn for the worse when she marries the fat phoney, because Guy can’t deal with the fact that he really fancies me. Tough titties, Guy! I’ve got my boyfriend Danny.
She fires me 19 times more and each time I apologise and promise to go to Kabbalah, but when she refuses to reimburse me for the Athena print I bought for her London home, I’ve finally had enough. So now, I sit alone in my bedsit, bitter, yet content, praying for the moment Madonna’s career hits the skids and her kids end up in therapy. Just like me.