Hitched a ride from Soho House back to White City in a black cab that quickly turned into the worst taxi ride of my (young) life.
I was so immersed in this month's copy of Literary Review that I only half registered that the driver was talking to me: " I recognise you - the telly bloke, right?"
Here we go! You know you've arrived in the world of celebrity when London cabbies recognise you. I was flattered at this public sign of my incredible meteoric rise up the corporate broadcasting food chain. It's nice to know that My Channel was reaching out to good, honest working class folk like this.
I smiled and nodded.
"How's the new job?" he asked.
Wow, this cabbie really knew his stuff. He must be a secret Guardian reader.
I nodded again and tried to get back to the latest review of the late Ryszard Kapuscinski's final work, Travels with Herodotus.
"My kids love you!"
This was strange. Even stranger still was when he said:
"I had your mate in here the other day"
This was getting kind of spooky.
"Yeah, whatshisname, you know the skinny one"
I half smiled and shrugged.
"Skinner! Frank Skinner... yes, that's him! The West Brom fan!!! So are you both going to do another Fantasy Football then?"
Fuck me! He thinks I'm David fucking Baddiel! I didn't have the heart to correct him and spent the next 20 minutes being regaled about some team called 'United' who apparently had signed a 'cracking left winger' called 'Porto' who allegedly could 'thread the ball through the eye of a needle'. I barely understood two words in ten.
Upon paying he thrust his business card at me and I had no choice but to dutifully scribble 'David x', and shuffle mournfully back into White City.
I desperately fucking need a goatee trim.
2 comments:
if you look like David Badiel I would have thought losing a spot of weight would be priority "numero uno". Can't you find some celebrity gym instructor to the stars or something? Get on the 'phone to Anthea Turner - she is bound to know someone she can hook you up with.
The lying cunt!
No - not Herodotus
Nor this Kaplinski fella
Not even you (for fucking once)
I mean the cabbie. Hailed him down outside Albertine's for the long slog back (well, it looked like rain).
Anyway, he said he'd just had David Duchovny in the back. I told him that my wife was a big fan.
"Got his autograph, didn't I? £40 and it's yours."
Well, "David x", I'm down two score and my wife has been duped into fondling and caressing your poncy handwriting.
The least you could have done was put a little heart over the 'i'.
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