Thursday, 7 June 2007

Breakfast with the Laziest Cunt in TV

I was midway through my Greek Yoghurt with honey and hazelnuts (and half a pink grapefruit on the side) when Dave Gravy finally showed up - 20 fucking minutes late.

I had been at The Wolseley since half seven with "Seb" Scott and we were right in the middle of brainstorming an interesting modelling-meets-plastic-surgery-meets-weight loss-meets-feeling fucking ugly-with-a-shocking-twist reality format, when the stupid cunt interupted us.

He looked totally out of place in this setting: sweat dripped from his pasty face, and he had on what looked like cycling shorts. Oh God, they were cycling shorts! Flustering his apologies at "the cacking traffic" he then proceeded to hang his fucking cycling helmet on the back of the chair and snap his fingers to draw the attention of the waiter.

I wanted to crawl into a hole.

Gravy slumped in a chair and ordered Fried Duck Eggs with Ayrshire Bacon (was he trying to impress me or something?) "Right. Where were we lads?!"

Maybe it's my NLP training, but I didn't trust this guy one little bit. He seemed totally full of bullshit, and I was immediately concerned that Seb hadn't picked up on this. I rely on Exec Producers for their superlative judgement, so why was he so keen on some Mr Average that struck me as a typical Twat-on-the-fucking-Take?!

This worried me greatly.

Later, after Gravy went off to the loos to "wipe down" I said to Seb: "Dave's definitely interesting - what made you hire him?" Seb, with an almost masonic-like twinkle in his little camp eyes said: "Oh, Dave is class, isn't he?! So on the ball. So full of balls! I really like his take on the world. Got great, mad ideas. He came up with the format to Faking It you know."

After just 15 minutes in this Scouse cunt's company, I could tell that he's never had an original thought of his own in his entire career! So why was Sebastian so hopelessly taken in by him? [Besides the obvious, like wanting to shag his brains out - like everyone else, I've heard the rumours that he likes a bit of northern rough once in a while].

I texted Charlotte on the way back to White City to confirm what she had told me: He is indeed The Laziest Cunt in Television™.

Well, he's not going to pull the wool over my fucking eyes. Gravy had better watch the fuck out - I am on to him.

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