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

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

An Ode to Odor

...which is how I came to be having one of the more delightful members of the Harry Potter cast over a skip at two in the morning. And let me tell you, he did live up to the legend 'champion beater'! No, stop me! I'll end up embarrassing us all..!

Now, is this thing on? Hello testing-one-two-three. (TAP TAP TAP) Darling readers, hello. I'm having to dictate to you via the wonders of technology due to... lets just call it an unfortunate incident. No, I won't go on - but I shall lie back and mouth into this. Which is not what the accident was, but was how I got my first job. In the mean time, feel free to picture me dictating my memoirs in the manner of Mae West in 'Sextette', without Timothy Dalton banging on the bedroom door. Begging to be let out.

Now where was I? Oh yes. Did you know I have no sense of smell?

Well, I say no sense, but it seems more selective than anything. I don't know how it went - perhaps it was that giddy summer sniffing Tipp-ex thinners behind the science block that did it. Perhaps it was the insistence of my mother to cloud herself in cheap perfume to such an extent of people coming up to us on the bus and telling her that they could smell her Charlie from way over there. Either way, it's eroded to almost nothing, and so I'm left without one of my major senses - which is a blessing at times, a bind at others. Smell is the one major triggers of memory, which explains why my recall is as effective as a Argos till assistant with a hangover. Every now and again I'll get a whiff of some aftershave an ex was wearing, unlocking a cavalcade of recollections. And as it happens so infrequently that I tend to follow people around in their fragrant wake, inhaling memories - and in one case, a rather kicky little scarf as I'd got far too close.

The rest of the time, it's no major trouble as I don't really miss it day to day - and certainly not in the more fragrant parts of this fair city one may or may not find oneself in at two in the morning with a cast member of a well-known film franchise. It just happened that he'd brought some poppers (clearly well prepared - his claims of "Oh I've never done anything like this before!" clearly well practiced) and due to several glittering cocktails earlier that night, I didn't read the label on the bottle he'd given me.

Well, rather than sniff it I thought it was one of those dinky little drinks they give you on airplanes. So I slugged it, blacked out, and hit my head on a rusting Zanussi. The next thing I know I'm in an ambulance and his agent is waving some bit of paper under my nose and promising me money if I don't go to the press, or some such.

So a fun night all round. I get to touch a wizard's wand and get a bung for a couple of drinks the following night out!

Now, how do you turn this bloody thing off, I really need a pi-(CLICK)


Stepfordtart said...

chortling with glee at the charlie reference! s x

Qenny said...

Is Charlie one of those euphemism things? As in "Can I smell your Charlie? No? Well, it must be your feet then."

Lippy said...

If it was either one of the Weasley twins I'm consumed with jealousy!