Not – on this occasion – the pre-Weatherall Primal Scream track of that name, but rather my first foray into the dimly-lit den of media luvviedom and A-list celebrity that is The Ivy restaurant.
I’m not Heat magazine (to be fair, if you thought I was, you’re even less celebrity-obsessed than I am*), so my lips are sealed as to who might have been spotted there. I’m rubbish at noticing famous people anyway, so had to rely on the eagle eyes of Pashmina and cello for info on our fellow diners, seemingly all of whom were well known for something or other.
I’d like to think that they were all elbowing each other, pointing surreptitiously at me and whispering “don’t look now – but there’s that A-list blogger, Patroclus.” It’s far more likely that they were looking at me disapprovingly and wondering how such a diminutive, scruffy-haired mortal had managed to scale the lofty heights of the media Olympus unapprehended.
All good fun though, the sausages and mash were great, *and* I managed to abscond with two boxes of The Ivy matches to prove I was there. Result!
UPDATE: Just when I thought today couldn't get any more entertaining, the lovely Christian momentarily took his top off in my Spanish class, and we learned to say "You can kiss me - but no touching"**. I'm hoping that one will come in useful.
* Messrs Cave and Depp notwithstanding.
** In Spanish, I mean.
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24 comments:
>>>You can kiss me - but no touching. I'm hoping that one will come in useful.>>>
Er, but no touching?? I presume with your new found skills you can rearrange the words if needed (perhaps to prostitute-style*: you can touch me - but no kissing).
When do you learn phrases such as 'Do you want to snort coke off my cleavage?' or 'Do you want to come to my all-night LAN party?'
* I don't know this as a fact - my source of information is a cloudy memory and Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman . (Perhaps LC can enlighten us after his weekend away)
A cloudy memory *and* Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman? I think we need to know more about this cloudy memory.
I don't advise attempting to snort coke of anybody's cleavage. For a start, although it sounds fun, it's actually quite hard to chop it up into tidy little lines on somebody's quivering bosom. Secondly, even just a tiny little bit of perspiration makes it go all gooey and clumpy.
God, I miss my twenties.
off-topic she goes...
i am seriously bummed out as i now don't think i can join you on 1st
*sobs into cuppa*
have a smirnoff ice on me, won't ya?
quokbl = an aged rock band changes its name in bid to conquer a sceptical outer mongolia
Hey tabby and LC, this is a classy blog, I'll have you know. There'll be no snorting coke off anyone's cleavage on my watch. Or off my watch. I don't even *have* a watch, for god's sake. Or a purse.
UC, that's a shame, it would have been great to meet you! Next time...
don't say purse.
if you see robbie williams on any of your posh london forays could you please pass on my gmail address and tell him the wife needs to hear from him?
SG, I'll do my best, but if I *did* happen to bump into Fat Rob in the Askew Road Co-Op, you can be sure I wouldn't recognise him from Adam.
oi! he's not fat! he's, um, misunderstood.
am so heat magazine....
>>I wouldn't recognise him from Adam>>
As in Adam Ant? Didn't you see him once being wrestled to the ground (or something*)
* Yet another cloudy memory.
Not me, and not being wrestled to the ground, but otherwise spot on!
Yes - I once didn't see Adam Ant not being wrestled to the ground by police in Prince of Wales Road, London NW5, after he'd (allegedly) thrown a car battery through the window of the Prince of Wales pub.
It's not one of my better claims to fame.
Actually it is.
The husband once saw Robbie Willaims somewhere near Trafalgar Square. Apparently he was wearing a long, Matrix type black coat and is "about ten feet tall".
was he on drugs, betty?
if you have a lame claim to fame i may have a post to interest you tomorrow (shameless pimping, i know. and i apologise. but it will direct you somewhere else only i can't remember the url just now)
I've just conducted a poll of my immediate entourage for their lamest claim to fame. One of them was laughed at by Princess Di while wearing a pink foulard (him, not Diana), and the other once saw Terry Nutkins in the Eastgate Shopping Centre in Inverness. The cat didn't have anything to contribute. Although I did once own a cat that got shagged by Toby Anstis's cat. That's got to count for something.
I saw David Attenborough at Schipol Airport, told him I wanted to marry him and got his autograph - then he followed me to the baggage claim - I thought he'd considered my offer, turned out I'd walked off with his pen.
Lamest has to be my dad selling a carborettor to holding-out-for-a-hero songstress Bonnie Tyler.
P - I think your cat could win this.
News just in: my youngest cousin recently sold five airbeds to Tilda Swinton.
There's a joke about a pea there somewhere, but I can't work it out.
PP, tell them more about the scrabble club - more celeb's grans are involved...
When I was in university in Derby, I saw Tosh from the Bill fall off the pavement. A week later, he was dead.
It is really strange, because just today I spoke of The Ivy in my blog,and I probably haven't thought about that restaurant in London for ...well..years! We were supposed to have dinner there, but did not for reasons that have not been revealed yet...(next installment of The Cotswolds saga...)...I love things like this, though. How bizarre is that?
I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT!!!
... oh, I once saw Dermot "O, Dreary" O'Leary up in London and the friend I was with said "OH GOD, IT'S THAT AWFUL MAN" in a really loud voice just as he walked past, God bless her.
Oohoo, who needs Heat mag, eh?
My trademark friendly scowl of a welcome to PP (lovely to see you round these parts!) and Old Lady of the Hills (who should surely have had a lame-ass celebrity run-in with Jilly Cooper by now).
SG: looking forward to the post.
Tabby: I'd totally forgotten about the Bonnie Tyler/carburetor story. I used to tell that one all the time!
James/PP: Indeed, more info on the celebrity-antecedent Scrabble club is definitely required. NB I hope your Gran is as breathtakingly outrageous a cheat at Scrabble as mine is.
Jesus, Jack - he was probably co-ordinating the Dalek invasion of Earth! I hope Chris Ecclestone was on hand to apprehend him.
I sat next to Sir Richard Eyre yesterday and he told me he hates the BBC Shakespeares, which made me realise I do too, which then depressed me because it scuppers my Twelfth Night plan. Or maybe I'm just grabbing at any old excuse not to get on with it.
Jack: Of course I know who he is - the leader of the Daleks.
Cello: The Twelfth Night idea is a winner, don't give up on it now!
I saw Helen off Big Brother at Reading train station boarding a train to Cardiff, but that's nothing to the excitment I reached when I walked into a girls clothes shop (the sort that sells incense, tie-die t-shirts and all that rubbish) and saw Keith Chegwin arguing with his daughter about what he was going to buy her. I have dined out on that many a time...
Woo, welcome there Frangelita. I'm not sure that Big Brother contestants count as celebrities, but Chegwin certainly does. For the record, Eubank does not.
Anyway, I would like to divert all further traffic on this subject to Surly Girl's blog, where the LCTFs are amassing apace.
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