Sad news. Sebastian Horsley, the Soho artist, drug addict, and blaspheming sex-writer, has died. Few people have attempted to live to its logical (or illogical) conclusions the alarming role of the decadent dandy - a fusion of Wilde, Crowley, and an opium-eater - with the discipline and sartorial charm of Horsley - a friend of a friend of mine (Louise Bak) and someone I met recently at the launch of Cosmo Landesman's book. His play had recently opened. A shame he closed his own book so soon.