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"When you start out in a band, it's all a mystery. You want people to think you've got it all planned, but you really don't know what you are doing." — Bono

Dear BAE Volume 3: Fitness, Food and Fake Fake B?

Dear BaE

Welcome to our little advice column! You really can ask us (almost) anything, but please note: Dear BaE is written by members of the AtU2 staff, for entertainment purposes only. Neither Bono nor Edge are involved in any way, except as they exist in our tiny little brains. No Bonos or Edges were harmed during the creation of this column. Enjoy!


Dear BaE,

With the quarantine here [in New Jersey], what I miss most is walking along the path at my local park. What are you two generally slim fellows doing for exercise during the lockdown? Looking for some ideas to help me stay fit.

@charov (Twitter),
Fort Lee, New Jersey


Fake Bono: First, I take issue with your use of “generally,” but this is an otherwise excellent question. I’ve got two words for you, Charov: accountability buddies.

Fake Edge: What do you mean, “buddies?” You have more than one?

Fake Bono: Edge, we are separated by an eight-hour time difference. I wouldn’t dream of disturbing your sleep while I begin my morning fitness routine.

Fake Edge: Which consists of…?

Fake Bono: Well, first I take a brisk walk through every room in the house, so that’s an easy three miles. Then I patrol the grounds and the beach.

Fake Edge: Impressive.

Fake Bono: The beach walk just happens to coincide with the appearance of one Matt Damon on his balcony. He is quarantining next door!

Fake Edge: You’ve made this abundantly clear to me over the past several weeks.

Fake Bono: Our schedules appear to be remarkably similar. As soon as I spot him, I break into a sprightly trot. This tells Matt Damon that Old Man Bono is still in championship form, and as far as he knows, Old Man Bono has been running since sunrise. This inspires him to come down and join me at an appropriate distance. We exchange pleasantries and run until my phone conveniently “rings,” and I “answer” it. “President of South Korea [or similar], gotta take this,” I shout at Matt apologetically. Oh, and then after supper I’ll check in with Fake Edge. In conclusion, accountability buddies!

Fake Edge: Well, that was very informative, but I’m not sure how it helps Charov, who is probably not BFFs with Matt Damon or even Ben Affleck. Charov, what you need is a workout routine that you can stick to at home, on your own, whether you have an “accountability buddy” to report to or not. Something that will make you feel better even if you find yourself feeling alone. Abandoned. Friendless.

Fake Bono: Oh, not the Welsh Yoga routine again.

Fake Edge: I was thinking of something like Jazzercise.

Fake Bono: That’s not a real thing, surely.

Fake Edge: Oh no? Well, I happen to have a link to a full Jazzercise workout video right here. With guidance from the instructor, Charov can tailor it to their own needs. It’s the perfect indoor workout for people who find themselves suddenly—and profoundly—lonely. Nay, betrayed. Replaced.

Fake Bono: Uh-oh.



Dear BaE,

Maybe while I’m quarantining I should learn some new recipes...I wonder if Fake Bono and/or Fake Edge have some good suggestions? What do Irish rock stars cook when they have the time?

Brian B.,
Fort Lee, New Jersey


Fake Bono: Alright, Fake The Edge, I don’t want to further hurt your feelings, but let’s get into it: who abandoned who? Which one of us is half a world away from home base, i.e. Dublin, Ireland, in case you have forgotten?

Fake Edge: Technically, I am one-third of a world away.

Fake Bono: You might as well be five-twelfths of a world away! My point is, you should be the one I’m running with on the beach. Matt Damon pales in comparison. You know this.

Fake Edge: It’s unfortunate. I’m sorry for becoming huffy.

Fake Bono: I miss you.

Fake Edge: We can talk about this later on today’s band Zoom meeting.

Fake Bono: I also just think it would be fun if Matt Damon ran with us sometimes.

Fake Edge: …To answer your question, Brian, nothing beats a good recipe swap, which is what the band does before we wrap up our Zoom meetings. Last week Fake Adam showed us how to make a really ripping lentil soup.

Fake Bono: Fake Larry and Fake Adam send their warmest regards, dear readers, by the way. Fake Adam has a beard now! And his hair has become so long and luxurious that he requires a hairnet while cooking. Meanwhile, Fake Edge has fashioned arm hairnets for himself.

Fake Edge: Safety first or not at all, Fake B.

Fake Bono: He uses them while assembling pizza ingredients that other people have gathered for him. And Fake Larry, whose normal penchant for off-season isolation makes him unusually well-equipped for the world in which we find ourselves, shared his elegant recipe for baked potatoes.

Fake Edge: “Heat and eat.”

Fake Bono: As for me, I have been far too busy writing fan letters and compiling a certain blockbuster playlist, so I’m afraid I don’t have any recipes to share at this time. But if you stop and think about it, aren’t playlists kind of like recipes? Mine includes one cup of punk, a heaping tablespoon of oldies, a dash of Gen Z because I’m cool like that, opera to taste, and two pounds of blatant shoutouts to my friends and contemporaries.

Fake Edge: Sounds interesting, B.

Fake Bono: Wait. Excuse me? Don’t you dare tell me you haven’t listened to it yet, Fake Edge. It’s only the most important playlist of my life.

Fake Edge: I’m afraid that if I listen to it, I’ll become even more homesick than I am now. A couple of your letters made me misty-eyed, and I had to lie down.

Fake Bono: Ah. There, there.

Fake Edge: Yeah…

Fake Bono: You will listen to it, though.




Dear BaE,

Last week, I received a private Instagram message from a “bono_vox_42069.” His profile picture was the one from the Michka Assayas book cover—one of my favorite pictures of you, Bono! (I mean, that wasn’t my favorite Bono era, but you looked good anyway.) Of course I got very excited. Here is what the message said: “Hello dear. How u doin today? I want to sinseerly thank u for ur support so far up our page. U2 wouldn be here without our fans.”

Was it you, Bono? It doesn’t really sound like you, but maybe you don’t type so well when you’ve had a few drinks?

Eterna Leigh Hopeful,
Fort Lee, NJ


Fake Bono: Well, Eterna, as they say in the news media, there’s a lot to unpack here. Edge, stop laughing.

Fake Edge: I can’t—

Fake Bono: Edge, this is not helpful. Eterna, I had to walk away and think about your letter for a bit. I even showed it to Ali. After she explained the significance of “42069” to me—

Fake Edge: What?

Fake Bono: Hey, I didn’t realize it was part of “meme” culture, alright? Stop snickering.

Fake Edge: I’m still trying to deal with “so far up our page.”

Fake Bono: Look, Edge, some fans are just really far up our page! You ought to be grateful. But let me get back to Eterna’s question. Darling, I am very sorry to tell you that I did not send that enchanting missive. Apart from this column, the members of U2 do not interact directly with fans via social media. It’s not that we don’t want to, but we would be inundated with fan mail—and the occasional credible threat—if we tried. As it is, all of our social media accounts are maintained by a mysterious lad called Fergus who operates from an undisclosed location on the Dingle Peninsula. We are all about security, and we like to maintain an aura of mystery.

Fake Edge: We do?

Fake Bono: We do. With the exception of Edge, whose graceful ballerina of a wife posts pictures of him mowing the lawn, fixing leaky faucets and of course assembling pizzas.

Fake Edge: She does?

Fake Bono: Oh dear…Eterna, I apologize on behalf of bono_vox_42069, whomever he may be. Please do not interact with that person. In fact, for your own safety, delete the message entirely.

Fake Edge: That’s exactly right, Bono. Sadly, our world is full of con artists, and technology provides them with easy marks.

Fake Bono: Indeed. I myself once answered a number of emails from a certain DylanBlowinWind-at-hotmail before I realized something was amiss, but that’s a story for another day. One last thing before we bring this column to a close. Eterna, I am a human being. I don’t have “eras.” I can’t just jump back to 1997 all willy-nilly and slip into the bubble suit—

Fake Edge: More’s the pity.

Fake Bono: Edge might bring back the pornstache, though. We can only be Eterna Leigh Hopeful.

That’s all for now, U2 fans—you pack of well-raised wolf cubs! To paraphrase *Sam 121, keep your eyes lifted to the hills! We love you.

*Bongolese for "Psalm"


Do you have a burning question for Fake Bono and Fake Edge? Follow them on Twitter (DearBAEatu2) and ask! They are capable of answering questions about U2, questions related to U2 and questions that have nothing to do with U2 at all.

Note: Fake Bono and Fake Edge are not real. They are two people pretending to be them. They cannot put you in touch with U2. They cannot help you with your music career, and they have no plans to come to Brazil anytime soon.


© Dednoting/Renegado, @U2 2020