"You can see how boring appearing on the Des O'Connor Show is," wonders Andy

Bell, Erasure's somewhat tired looking singer, " they've got beds in the

dressing rooms rather than chairs - and they're not even double ones".

We are in Thames TV's celebrity zone, a row of anonymous brown doors with

very un-anonymous names scrawled on them: Diana Ross, Tina Turner, Jonathan

Ross, Michael Bolton, The Michael Bolton Band ( relegated to what appears to

be a fireplace cubby hole) and, right down at the end, top pop group

Erasure. It's eerily quiet; if the aforementioned stars are all present they

must be tucked up safely in their respective divans, for there are clearly

no champagne-guzzling, TV chucking showbiz parties in progress.

A frantic race for the bed is the most energetic thing going on in Erasure's

room - they're both shattered, having only returned from Rio the previous

day. Vince Clarke wins, and curls into a foetal position, dragging

energetically on a Marlboro Light while tapping some recently gleaned

restaurant facts into the Psion organiser he carries everywhere. Although he

looks and sounds alarmingly like Norman Tebbit, the slight Basildon

synth-boffin is not as dour as he appears. A reserved fellow, his main mode

of conversation is to ask a string of increasingly detailed factual

questions ( hence the restaurant info). When he's at ease however, a sly

sense of humour surfaces. He's constantly making little digs and jokes, then

sniggering like a schoolboy who's just executed a particularly ripe fart.

Andy's more voluble and less guarded than Vince. He talks in italics a lot ;

not camp exactly, but he likes to emphasise his points in an exaggerated ,

hairdresserly fashion. For a man renowned for the perviness of his wardrobe,

he's looking remarkably subdued - there's not a piece of rubberwear in

sight. Tonight's only concession to flamboyance is a somberly intricate

embroidered jacket made, so he claims, by a South American hotel manager's

daughter. He wanders to the door and peers forlornly down the deserted

corridor.

"Not one of these other people would know who we are, I expect," he murmers.

At this, a dwarfish figure, 50 per cent heels and 50 per cent fright-wig,

pops out of a distant room. It is Tina Turner, Belgian boyfriend in tow,

fleeing to the more luxurious surroundings of a nearby hotel. Andy's right :

as the miniature legend scuttles past, presumably heading for a larger bed,

she shows not one flicker of recognition.

Fact is, there's something slightly anonymous about Erasure. The duo write

bang-on efficient pop tunes, they sell out huge stadia, and since 1986

they've had 15 hit singles and four top ten LP's, one of which - 1989's

'Wild!' - went straight in at number one.

In terms of British record sales Erasure are up there with the likes of the

Pet Shop Boys and Kylie Minogue ; but where the nations Mums and Grans ( and

Tina Turner, for that matter ) could all tell you a little something about

Kyles and the PSB's, mention Erasure and they'd most likely be stumped. It's

the difference between being in pop's first and second divisions. So here

Erasure are, ready to "broaden their appeal" by miming the latest single off

the 'Chorus' LP ( the Christmasesque electro-ballad 'Am I Right?' ) on the

Des O'Connor Show.

Everyone takes the piss out of Des O'Connor, but the sad truth is that he is

Britain's real top light entertainer and singer. Twelve million ( possibly

judgement-impaired ) people watch his show every week - which makes Wogan

look about as popular as The Open University. Consequently, the stars are

queueing up to perch on his big white sofa and laugh unconvincingly at his

"jokes". The mega-showbiz types get to chat, while the pop small fry are

wheeled on and off with only a handshake. Erasure fall into the latter

category, as Andy admits.

"That's what they think, but we know we're not small fry. I feel like going

up to Des and saying, You'll be interviewing us in ten years time - if you

don't pop your clogs first. We'll be famous and all the other people here

will be old and wrinkled. They're just famous for being famous, that's all

it is. I know Diana Ross has sold millions of records, but how many has she

sold in the last five years?. One, probably. Vince was asked to write a song

for her, but he refused. We don't like her, she's not very nice."

Vince digs his partner in the ribs and sniggers : "Oy - you're doing it

again."

"But it's truuuuuue," wails Andy, then whispers, "I'm not supposed to be

slagging people off."

At least Diana has been allowed to meet Des. Erasure, after five hours at

the studio, haven't even said hello.

"And we probably won't get to", says Andy with a marked lack of

disappointment. "We'll just do the number, shake his hand, and that's it.

You have to beg to be on Des O'Connor you know, you don't just decide it

would be fun. You have to wait to be asked."

But aren't they simply being watched by 12 million grannies?

"Nooooooooo!" shrieks Andy, sounding hurt. "Whole families watch this. I

used to love being at home with my Gran when it was on. Anyway, Jimmy

Somerville did it, and if it's good enough for him, it's good enough for

us."

It's a bit crap though, isn't it?. You can't imagine the Pet Shop Boys on

Des O'Connor.

"Cos they're too stick-in-the-mud, they're too cool," snaps Andy, his

Peterborough accent poking indignantly above it's veneer of London vowels in

protest at the very thought. He obviously sees being cool as a severe

character defect , just one step away from pretention. Andy prefers

sincerity.

" I enjoy the Pet Shop Boys' music, but I don't like their stance. It's too

cool to be true. I don't think people can believe the story for very long,

and that's why they're waning a bit. They can't keep it up."

But the PSB's present themselves in a calculated manner, and consequently

reams of pop theory are written about them. Don't Erasure yearn to create

that kind of mystique?.

"Nooo, why should we?", says Andy uncomprehendingly. "I can't pretend I'm

something I'm not. I think it's good not having an image. Why should you be

a constructed thing just so people can make up their mind who you are?. Oh,

I hate talking about the Pet Shop Boys. At least we're honest. Oh, I hope I

don't sound too awful. People ask us about them all the time, and it just

gets on my nerves."

"The last thing we want is a credible audience," deadpans Vince. "This isn't

a camp gesture - we're not that contrived. I mean, we just flew in from Rio,

which is nearer to Australia - where we're going next - than London. We

wouldn't come all this way just for a pose."

Erasure have been travelling the world since June, promoting their 'Chorus'

album. Even though they are tired and nearing the end of their tether,

they're still bubbling with enthusiasm for South America.

"We've just discovered the most fabulousest, famous superstar in the whole

of Latin America," says Andy breathlessly. "She's a chatshow host called

Xuxa (pronounced Shoosha) and everything on her show is soooo glamorous. She

has a yellow crushed velvet mic box, and each mic has a different coloured

ribbon round it saying 'Show De Xuxa'. There's a huge picture of her in the

background and she's got all these little disciples called things like Muxa

(Moosha), Tuxa (Toosha)...all spelt the same. She's our latest idol. She's

more of a star than all the people here tonight."

In North America, meanwhile, the group hosted and DJ'd a string of

bizarre-sounding drag parties.

"We were being supported by 'alternative' radio stations," explains Vince.

"They're the small ones that don't play Top 40 records. If you're English

and you're not in the Top 40 then you're alternative. They organised parties

for the fans : there was a free bar, fire eaters, and so on. And for a

laugh, to make it more fun, we did it in drag - both of us."

"All the audience had to come in fancy dress too," elucidates Andy. "There

were some brilliant costumes, because it was really close to Halloween.

There was this one big fat momma covered in blue foam - she was meant to be

a tuna fish. Me, I looked stunning - and Vince kept getting mistaken for

Cher. ( Vince sniggers delightedly.) Vince was Vanessa, and I was, er,

Mimi."

"You liar, you was Andrea," parries Vince.

"I know, but that's too boring."

"Oo-er, I'm sorry!!" apologises Vince, and for some unfathomably reason he

has the biggest belly laugh of the day.

Britain's next chance to see Andy in full drag will be in June, when Erasure

embark on their world tour. Instead of playing major stadiums like last

time, they're doing residencies in smaller venues. They claim this is

nothing to do with falling ticket sales, and it's probably true : filling

Hammersmith Odean for nine nights in a row isn't exactly tragic, and they're

repeating the formula in four other cities.

"We wanted to be more intimate than the last tour, and I personally feel

more at home in theater," justifies Andy. "Touring doesn't sell any records,

and it doesn't make us money - we just like it. In fact, I love it : working

on a new project each time keeps you going."

Other than disclosing that they'll be some audience participation, Andy's

cagey about revealing too much about the show for fear of being ripped off.

"It'll be like Swan Lake On Acid, that's all I can say."

It all sounds a bit panto ; and you can imagine Andy making a loveable

pantomime dame in later years. This suggestion, however, is taken as a deep

slur.

"I'd never do panto, or Joseph And His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for

that matter. Brecht's Threepenny Opera, that's more my style. I'm not Boy

George, I've just had to develop this flamboyance to give me confidence on

stage. I do get a bit embarrassed sometimes about my outfits, but if you can

cope with yourself being tacky, that's a good thing."

Would Andy ever be seen in a shell suit?

"What, a suit made of shells?"

He has been away a long time. No, one of those multi-coloured plastic

tracksuits that misguided families wear to go shopping...

"I think they're niiiiice. People are just so snobby. I'd rather wear

clingfilm, though."

"It's been done before," counters Vince pedantically, "on an Undertones

cover : a girl wrapped in clingfilm."

"But it wouldn't be a girl with her tits all squashed. It'd be me. Much

nicer."

A cameraman is gazing incredulously at Vince, as the twig-like techno-whizz

wrestles with an extremely large accordian, his prop for the evening.

"He'll never carry that," he exclaims. "He looks like he couldn't wear a

heavy overcoat."

We're gathered in the studio ready for the final filming, but there's a

delay caused by camera problems. Des, who's actually appeared at last, is

keeping the blue-rinsed audience on the boil with some appalling patter, so

Erasure escape to the make-up area. Diana, Tina and Michael are nowhere to

be seen, but one celebrity in the building who does recognise Erasure

barrels up.

"Hello, boys, how're ya doin?" booms Jonathan Ross proprietorially. With his

out-size frame and huge self-confidence, he dominates the tiny room in a

most un-Erasure-like manner.

"We've discovered someone you've got to have on your show," burbles Andy,

launching once again into his description of Xuxa.

But Jonathan has already heard of her : "She used to be a man didn't she?".

"No, she can't have been," protests a horrified Andy.

"Straight up, she was."

"You'll have the Mafia after you for saying that," warns Andy. "They run all

the TV out there."

"It was probably them that did it to her," chortles Mr Ross as a parting

shot. And he swishes majestically out, leaving a slight vacuum in his wake.

Vince, possibly to fill the gap, slips into interrogation gear. This

evening's first subject is early '80's synth pop : "Did you like futurism?"

he asks. "Do you remember a group called Shock? Or Landscape? Or Cowboys

International? I really like the music from then, it was so different."

He remenisces about his Saturday nights in Basildon's futuristic disco,

Crocks : "There were three things happening : futurist music, Adam And The

Ants for the Goth'eads, and rockabilly - people couldn't make up their

minds."

For the rest of the night he pops up at odd moments naming ever-dodgier

groups : "Remember Silicone Teens? Classix Nouveaux? OMD's 'Electricity',

that was a milestone..."

Subject number two is photography. Despite a detailed examination of the

Select photographer's equipment, Vince claims not to be into the techno-buff

side of things. What he really likes is developing prints : he's got a darkroom

set up in the bathroom of his Amsterdam home. His current project is some

pictures taken on a recent trip to Lourdes ( it's rumoured he has religious leanings ).

"We had our photo taken by David Bailey once. He was the most horrible, rude

pig I've ever met. His assistants set everything up, we posed, then he just stomped

in, went click-click without saying a word, and walked out again. He just dropped

everything on the floor for his assistants to pick up. We never saw the picture."

Little anecdotes like this show Vince to be surprisingly entertaining once he gets

going.

"He's much more open than you'd think," confirms Andy. "I know a lot more

about him now than I used to."

"Andy doesn't worry about things, he doesn't get too upset, and that's all

rubbed off on me," says Vince, who was once so obsessive he unpacked all his

clothes and folded them neatly away in hotel-room drawers every night. "I

leave them in my suitcase now. I've got it so well organised you see."

"Yeah, he's got eight pairs of socks, eight pairs of knickers - it's all

worked out. I took a pair of pants once and ruined the system completely."

"At the end of the week I had a pair of socks left over. It was terrible,"

mourns Vince.

"You should have thrown them away : then everything would have evened out.

You didn't think of that, did you Vince?".

Clearly this partnership won't be disintegrating like Vince's previous

collaborations, Depeche Mode and Yazoo.

"No, because we like each other," says Vince. "I was younger then. There

were too many egos flying about, mine included. We're pretty, er, 'chilled'

now."

"Vince is sweeeet, he's a lovely person, I love him," coos Andy. "I don't

think about having sex with him anymore, though. Well, not very often..."

A minion calls Erasure back to the studio : at last they are to film their

spot. Vince manages to support his accordian through two takes, and Andy

gets to shake Des' hand not once, but twice ( he never did say hello,

though ).

"Ooooh, I'm never going to wash my hand again," says Andy insincerely,

packing his jacket away after the momentous event. He shakes the offending

limb around as if he'd rather it fell off.

"I'm going to tape this, though. I'll watch it when I get back," muses Andy,

"although I'd rather watch Blockbusters..."