Of the meeeedja "wanting him to apologise" for his impromptu false imprisonment of an escort, Mr. George used this argument:
"I think that is terribly sanctimonious. I've already been to trial. I've paid my price. Why should I have to explain myself to anybody, let alone seek their forgiveness? Ever since I've come out (of prison, not the closet), I've had nothing but affection, everyone from the doorman at The Dorchester Hotel to taxi drivers. None of them have expected me to apologise. They just all seem really glad that I'm out (again, of prison), and that I'm back. It's made me realise that people do care for me. And before you ask, yes, I am grateful for that. I am...
All you encounter on a daily basis, especially taxi drivers, are probably just relieved and "glad" that yourself and a random mate have not invited them into your home, accused them of tinkering with your laptop before bundling them off to your bedroom for a good shackling against your radiator.
The doorman at the Dorchester shouldn't live in fear, however, as the Boy has reportedly matured, thanks to his self-inflicted experiences: "I've grown up. I always used to hate it when people said things like that; it made me retch. But I've realised that just because you've grown up, it doesn't mean you necessarily have to become boring. I certainly haven't. All that has happened is that my desire for drama is greatly diminished. And it's a relief to be able to say that."
One would've thought the penchant for drama would have dwindled around the time you effectively called the police on yourself... for those with fuzzy recall mechanisms; he wanted them to investigate a phantom burglary at his apartment only for them to find the odd mound of cocaine about the abode.
Yet another individual who only feels normal in the presence of upheaval, therefore goes out of their way to be the source of their own *waves at Amy Winehouse, wobbling in the corner*