A (not so) real  interview with Harry Styles

A couple of weeks ago one of our reporters, Elliot Rose, ran into Harry Styles by chance and they had an impromptu interview. Harry showed particular exuberance towards his new project, ‘absolutely nothing’, which when looked at closer on inspection is in fact absolutely nothing. Shortly after this interview, Elliot Rose went missing. Some say powerful forces in our world wanted to keep him quiet, others say he was driven mad by a longing for One Direction to be reunited once more. Whilst this interview contains sensitive information, and Elliot did not give clear permission for this interview to ever be shown to the world, we at Bath Time magazine did it anyway. Why? Rupert Murdoch said so.   

On a mellow Wednesday afternoon I was walking up Bathwick Hill, prepared to attend a campus lecture on how leaving out the bread from a sandwich can make it a more appetising snack. Britney Spears music was serenading my ears and I took a pause, lent back, and thought ‘ahh, this is art’. It was at that point that I noticed something quite far out of the ordinary. So far out of the ordinary that if a lamppost gained sentience and started to talk to me, I would say ‘fair enough’, and listen to what the nice lamppost had to say. 

Harry Styles was walking up the path from the greenspace with what looked like a dog poo bag on him; after throwing said bag in the bin I took my opportunity to acquaintance myself. ‘‘Hi Harry. My name is Elliot’’ I said sheepishly, ‘‘where’s your dog?’’. ‘‘What dog?’’, said Harry in an aloof manner.  ‘‘Oh sorry, I was just throwing my acting career into the bin. The only studio that was still interested in my services following The Policeman was Brazzers, you see?’’.

‘‘Oh, that’s too bad’’ I said, ‘‘any new music on the way?’’.

‘‘I was thinking of releasing a new single but I’m still in the process of hiring the 150 music producers that I need. I’m pretty proud about my song writing so far though’’.

‘’Oh really?!’’ I said, ‘‘lets hear it!’’ 

‘‘Okay here it goes’’ Harry said… 


‘‘Wow Harry, that is so breath-taking!’’ 

Harry maintained eye contact with me for a few seconds, a couple of seconds too long in fact. It was weird.

‘‘Thanks Elliot’’, remarking in a way to show some sincerity. ‘‘Simon Cowell used to complement my song writing prowess all the time, but he can’t really move his mouth anymore due to all the plastic surgery’’. ‘

‘That’s too bad” I said. “Anyway, what are you doing in Bath?‘’

‘‘I’m glad that you asked Elliot!. I’m a really big fan of Baths and my agent told me that this is the biggest Bath in the world, I expected it to be more wet than this though. I then found this very steep hill and though that I would climb to the top of it. If a statue of Zayn is at the summit, I would literally lose my marbles. He’s my idol’’. 

Realising that Harry was perhaps not in the greatest mind or spirit, and was in fact a complete loony, my predatory journalistic instincts kicked in.

‘‘I couldn’t say write about this conversation in the Bath Time magazine, could I?’’.

‘‘Interesting’’, said Harry, ‘‘my publicist said that all publicity is good publicity. ‘I don’t know how to read however so I would have to get my agent to read the article to me. Back in the 1D days Louis would help me out with those kinds of things. He would read things out to me, cook, and even help wipe my ass when Niall wasn’t around. I miss those moments’’.  

As pertinent as my sandwiches lecture was (think of the bread savings?!), I decided to walk with Harry and find his beloved Zayn statue. The journey was long, and treacherous. Harry called out for his love Olivia Wilde on multiple occasions and elaborated on his love for her. ‘‘She is very intellectual you know, Louis read her book ‘The Portrait of Dorian Gray’ to me and I’m glad that Dorian fellow is dead now, he seems like he would have been more competition than Chris Pine’’. 

After trekking through the wilderness for several days, and miles above the clouds at an altitude that any commercial airplane would be envious of, we came across a clearing. Harry, wiping sweat from his forehead, bellowed ‘’look ahead at the end of the clearing, is that gold you see! I think it’s a statue of Zayn”. And who would have thought, it was Zayn in all his glory! Tears ran like rivers from Harry’s eyes. ‘I haven’t spoken to the real Zayn since he left the band, but this golden Zayn will do’’. As we slowly lurched closer and closer to the statue I noticed the outline of a door at the bottom, with a sign saying ‘1D members only’.  Eventually we were within a few feet of the statue (and how majestic it was!), when the door opened automatically. ‘’Welcome Harry’’ a female, robotic voice said, ‘‘it is time for your next tour. Your fans need you’’.  Harry looked at me longingly, a bit too longingly. Again, it was weird. ‘’This Is it, old friend”, he said.  “I can’t wait for your Bath Time article to be read to me, and I hope we see each other again one day’’. “Ok mate,” I said. “Have a good one”. Harry then kneeled and spat on my trousers. “People think that I spat on Chris Pine’s lap as a form of intimidation, but actually it was a form of endearment”.  We briefly hugged and Harry whispered ‘‘I’ll never forget you”. This made me uncomfortable, and I told him I’d rather he did.  Harry then edged into the statue and quicker than you could say ‘calypso’, the door closed behind him.  The statue rose in motion, rising faster than water in a boiling kettle and was over 100 feet in the air within a few seconds. It reached sonic speeds and was out of sight in a blip. 

After the statue was gone, I realised ‘where the fuck am I?’. Swatting mosquitos out of my immediate vicinity I started to walk in the direction that I believed campus was. I missed my lecture on sandwiches and still eat slice after slice of bread every day. 

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