Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Friday, August 29, 2003

In The Dark

As Ruler of the Universe, I take full responsibility for the blackout affecting London last night. My bad: I’d actually talked to my rather corpulent assistant Stacey about making our fair city ‘more cosmopolitan, more New York’ and she’d taken this to mean that she could pull out the main power transformer so she could warm up her pasty mountain.

I only found out about it when I left a bar to get all these text messages from well-wishers out of the city hoping that I was OK on - what was being broadcast as - ‘the war-torn streets of London’. At first I misheard and thought we had to ‘black-up’ and had diligently purchased some shoe polish in a woefully un-PC act of doing an impression of Sherri Palmer from ‘24’ for which I may or may not be going to hell for. She is fab, you see, but thankfully someone took me aside and pointed at the lights for a moment until I got it. Anyway, as I paraded toward Charing Cross, I inadvertently wandered in front of some cameras trying to capture firstly any drama of people trying to get a taxi to no avail for we are British and thus far too used to queuing and tutting. They were also divining for soundbites of anyone going “Shocking, really. It’s the 21st Century and we can’t even get this right!” I believe extra points were on offer for mentioning the buzz words ‘Ken Livingstone’, ‘Under a Conservative Government...’ and ‘It’s not really fair on my pussy, is it?’ as I gather the camera team were fans of ‘Are You Being Served’.

But there I was on film. I dislike the idea that I’m now on stock footage of ‘Londoners in Panic’ where a director can instil a sense of drama on proceedings by saying ‘...and now CUT! to a Disgruntled Gay Trying to Catch A Train... Genius! BAFTAs all round!’ It had previously happened to a writer associate of mine who’s just popped out of his flat to get some ciggies and wandered past the cameras pointing at a Gay Pride march. Whenever they want to show Gays Fighting For Their Rights, there he is looking a little bit aimless and trying to get across in front of a float to the CostCutter. His mother was most surprised.

But fret not: I have since taken Stacey in hand (well not literally, we had to reopen Glasgow Shipyards in order to get her a new bra last month) and this sort of nonsense shouldn’t happen again.

Well, not until next month. Hehhehehh.

1 comment:

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