Fat Tony – real name Tony Marnach – went from London council estate to best mate of Kate Moss and Boy George, and one of the party scene’s most notoriously hedonistic DJs. Since becoming sober 15 years ago, he’s forged a career as fashion’s go-to DJ and an LGBTQ+ activist. His new memoir, I Don’t Take Requests, charts his ascent from difficult beginnings to kingpin of the 80s and 90s club scene, his drug addiction, HIV diagnosis, rehab and recovery. It is out now.
Fat Tony
How she is in this picture is how I remember Mum growing up: glamorous. Always made an effort. I look at her now and think she’s just as amazing as she was back then, even if she’s shrunk a few inches.
I was such a mummy’s boy. When I was little, I’d dig through her jewellery box and clothes. I’d look at her and think: she’s so beautiful, my dad really doesn’t deserve her. He was supportive, but a real big geezer and not at all who I aspired to be. I’d much rather dress up like my mum.
There was never any need for me to come out as a gay to my mum. I used to run around the estate in drag, so I was hardly trying to hide it. She always encouraged me, no matter how ridiculous my suggestions were. I went to Margate when I was six and she let me buy some fake boobs. And when I was 11 she let me get my hair permed. She just let me be whoever I wanted to be.
I started clubbing when I was 14 and my circle of friends grew really quickly. [Boy] George would drive to my parents’ house so we could all get ready to go out together. It was chaos. We’d be off our nuts and trying to hold it together in front of Mum and Dad.
By the time I’d come home I’d normally want to hide in my room. The only way Mum found out what I was getting up to was because she talked to all my friends. George still knows Mum’s phone number off by heart. She’d call [the hair stylist] Sam McKnight and say: “I’m worried about Tony. Is he doing this? Is he doing that?” I tried to keep a lot of it away from her – I knew taking drugs wasn’t the right thing. But it didn’t stop me. Most people have common sense; I have uncommon sense. If someone says: “Don’t do that! It’s really dangerous!” I’ll definitely do it.
When the Aids crisis happened, and I was diagnosed with HIV, Mum was really clued up. Partly because I’d buried Tom [Hammond, Tony’s partner] and my mum supported me through that awful process. But she also kept up with what was going on in the world. Some parents might be in denial about their children’s sexuality, especially back then, but she wasn’t. And when it came to finding me dying on the floor at home at the pinnacle of my drug use, she knew exactly what to do and was never blinkered.
The lack of judgment in our relationship meant I knew she would always support me. Whenever something bad happened, I didn’t grab a coffee or cigarette – I’d call my mum straight away. Even during the worst times throughout my crack addiction, we never lost touch.
Our relationship is much stronger now I’m sober. She was always waiting for a phone call to tell her that her son was dead. No mother should have to live like that. She couldn’t trust me before, and now she can because I have no ulterior motives. I just want her love and approval.
Dawn
My husband took this photo. It was in our front room at home and Tony was about nine months old. I used to straighten my hair with an iron! I’d always do it, no matter what. You learn to get ready quickly when you’ve got kids – half an hour at the most. I wanted to look the best I could afford.
As a baby, Tony was as good as gold. You didn’t even know you had him – I’d have to wake him up to feed him. Most boys were into cowboys and indians, but if Tony had a chance, he’d be running up the road in my high heels. He loved drama. Always had an audience around him, especially girls. He was into cutting everyone’s hair on the estate at one point. I’d have all the mums screaming at me.
I was brought up by my grandmother as my mum disappeared with some bloke when I was little. I had a very closed-off childhood and I wanted my children to have total freedom. I studied at Chelsea art school, and I suppose it gave me quite a bohemian outlook: I believed that everyone should be themselves.
When Tony started going out I never worried about him, but I did tell him: “Don’t ever walk home on your own at 3am. If you haven’t got any money for a cab I’ll sort it out at the other end.” He definitely took advantage of that!
One time, I heard a bang on the front door at about 5am. I knew it was Tony – he’s always losing his keys. I went down and there he was, along with a few other friends – one dressed up in a black bin bag with rags in his hair. Tranny Paul [actor and Blitz Kid Paul Dawson] – who is the prettiest man I’ve ever met – was dressed up as a bunny girl. He was bending down with his bum up in the air in the middle of the road, making a racket. They were all expecting me to go mad and say: “How dare you bring my 15-year-old son home like that!” But I just stood there laughing. I thought it was hilarious. The neighbours didn’t find it so funny.
I was a silly mum, really – naive. His father made him pay rent when he lived with us. Tony would give the money to his dad, then his dad would give it to me, then I’d go and give it back to Tony, who would spend it all on drugs. He had this squat with George on Kings Road, and he’d go there if he was off his head. Looking back, I didn’t really know how serious it was. In my day there were purple hearts and people smoked a lot [of cannabis] but I never had any because I didn’t like the idea of it having been in someone else’s mouth.
There was a time before Tony went into rehab when I visited him in his squat. When I arrived, I couldn’t get him out of bed. He wouldn’t wake up, like he’d overdosed. I thought if I called an ambulance it would cause a big scene – I didn’t want the police or the press to find out. So I called a private cab company nearby; they helped me get him out of bed and we got him to the hospital. They took one look at him and rushed him away. They thought he had a brain tumour, but it was fluid in his brain. He was ever so ill.
Since then, I’ve been amazed at how Tony’s turned his life around. He was marvellous to me when Mick [Tony’s dad] was dying. Mick used to have an alcohol problem – if he had a drink, you were walking on eggshells. But that time they spent together towards the end took all those bad years away. Tony would come down every Tuesday and shave him – he wouldn’t let me do it, he took care of me in that way.
There were a few moments when I thought I was going to lose Tony. At one point he weighed seven stone. His teeth were coming out. Tony’s gone right the way down, but he fought his way back up again. He is a very strong character, is Tony. And I’m so very proud of him.
