Television personalities are important to me. I know that they shouldn't be, but they are. So this past celebrity-laden week and a half has been a real treat. I still get a slightly tawdry thrill from seeing people off the telly in the flesh. This is probably because I have lived in Lewisham for the majority of my life, a borough in which the premier TV personality is Saracen from gladiators (last seen on television in 1996). In the last 7-10 days I have encountered the following punters:
Olivia Colman/Sophie from Peep Show:
Her face was literally 12 inches away from mine on a rammed train coming home from Charing X last week. I decided to ignore my instincts and not stare at her like an mildly amorous retard. Instead, I cracked open an issue of Kerrang which had been randomly donated to me by Alp that morning ("I thought you might like this. It has musicians in it.") As I struggled to maintain an interest in Paramore and their religious convictions, my mind wandered, and I soon found myself wearing my infamous comedy cap (IT'S NOT A REAL CAP). In no time I had conjured a hilarious joke about Innocent Smoothies for my theoretical stand-up routine. I started to jot down my smoothie-based joke, but as I did so I inadvertently inched closer to Olivia Colman. As I wrote I noticed that she was breathing unusually quickly. Presumably her nutter senses had kicked in and flooded her system with adrenaline. I extricated myself from her personal space as soon as I realised she was in discomfort, but it was too late. She probably thought I was some wannabe, Kerrang-reading comedy writer who wanted to ask her if she would star in my pilot. "I'm writing a sitcom based in a cat sanctuary. The twist is the cats can speak, and possess human genitalia. You want in?".
Simon Bird/Dweeby one from Inbetweeners:
Saw this guy as I shopped for lunch in the Marks and Spencer's on Tottenham Court Road. I clocked a brightly coloured teenager contemplating the Chicken and Bacon sub. This kid looked like a Size? had thrown up on him that very afternoon. All his garms were boxfresh and he was wearing garish red trainers. He looked very 'snazzy', but not in a good way. He reminded me of a 15 year-old from Harlow who had just been on a shopping spree fueled by Christmas vouchers and Big Macs. I then clocked it was the bloke off Inbetweeners. Because of his incongruous outfit I couldn't work out if it was actually Simon Bird or some 15 year-old lad who had just changed into his freshly purchased garms in the McDonald's toilets.
His identity became clear when he turned from the sandwich fridge empty-handed and gave me a look that suggested that he gets recognised like this all the time. It was him alright, and he was giving it big balls. I said 'hello' and held out my arm as I approached him, then reached over his head a plucked a 3 bean wrap from the shelf.
Phil Jupitus:
This one wasn't much of an encounter. I saw him lurking outside my office, and due to his harrowed expression I strained to avoid eye contact. He had the look of a man who had spent the night tearfully gorging on wafer thin ham.
