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MY NAME IS ROD STEWART AND I'M A CHAUVINISTIC PIG-AHOLIC Waify Swedish Britt plays the game pretty well. She even lets you dress her up in virginal lace. Class-ay! You become the darling of the paparazzi, the in-couple. Years later she will complain that during the whole relationship you never gave her a single gift despite birthdays and Christmases and the many presents from her to you. She will also claim that you often let bills lie around for months without paying them until eventually your phone service was cut off. Small oversights? Hmm...maybe. But you indulge in your own self-absorbed shopping sprees. Well hell, you ain't no freaking Richard Burton. Obviously. What were we thinking? In fact, there should be a saying: there are Burtons and there are Stewarts. And there are Hugh Grants, and Peter Sellerses, Peter O'Tooles and Stings. Anyway, you and Britt settle into the Californian life while she rearranges the house a lá art deco with extinct-animal-part furniture. ("Where's the love for the ferret?" -- The Pets.com sock puppet, circa 2000). Meanwhile, you are still stringing along The Faces as well. You release another solo album, Atlantic Crossing. The single "The First Cut is The Deepest" does well. Sailing bombs in the US but does very well in the UK. You begin to demand top billing over the band Diana Ross style. Ron Wood leaves the band to join the Rolling Stones. It's been a while coming. You feel it's time to go your own way. Do you respect The Faces enough to actually tell them? Back to the Beginning of the Story
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