Back at Le Bon’s house, his supermodel wife, Yasmin, puttering in the hallway is a reminder that life in a pop band, even one that has struggled over the years, has its rewards. There are others: stunning abstract paintings on the walls, a huge garden running down toward the Thames. But there is no missing the pride in his voice when he talks about the new album, or the extended run the band will soon play on Broadway to kick off the coming world tour. “Almost two weeks in one theater,” he muses. “The Clash did it, and I think Elvis Costello, but I’m not sure anyone has done it for as long as we will.” Le Bon seems to have surprised himself with this revelation: that longevity can bestow its own greatness.

“Hey, we can still do it,” he says. “And you know what? We haven’t got fat. And you know what? We’ve got hair, and we can still put clothes on, and we can still do photo sessions, and, okay, we don’t look like we did 25 years ago, but we don’t look that bad.”

And there are at least 1,000 gay Duranies who would agree with him.