Day 83 - Strange Days (here we come)

The Smiths.

Yesterday was the most surreal one in, oh I don't know, a year.

Firstly Michael, my slothful 'friend', who set me this bet and who has been lying on his sofa almost non-stop for the last four years, actually got a Job! yeah I know.

I have always pitched that old bon mot at him: "Michael you know you should be on stage...........sweeping it", to which his reply is usually two worded and seven lettered. But there is actually a scintilla of irony in saying this to him, as the last time he did actually have a job, it involved him propelling his large carcass and large pieces of scenery, around the stages of various West End Theatres.

Now it seems as though Michael will once again be treading the boards, and hopefully not cracking them, as the Garrick Theatre have offered him a 6 month contract. My faith in humanity has been fully restored with this news that even those with learning difficulties can find employment in theatreland. Let's just hope that they don't ask him to pick up the Garrick litter as he might go looking for a disgraced pop star. Ithankyo

So as we prepared to celebrate this momentous event last night, I was sadly forced to call off our trip to the pub, as my DJ friend James, who did some of the music for Guy Richie's new film Revolver, rang me at the 11th hour (actually it was about 4.45pm), to ask if I wanted to come to the Premier.

Having never been to one I gratefuly  accepted, pondering who I might be able to cross of my list of 500. Guy Richie for a start, maybe some others. I stopped short of wearing my "Greeting the 500" T-shirt as I was told that dress was to be smart. That was a mistake, since when I turned up I noticed that a number of people in our group hadn't really taken this advice literally. Nonetheless we trod the red carpet, to the murmurs of "who are they" and entered the Odean. (see photo. I am freakish looking one on the right)

We watched the, dare I say it, slightly confusing film, and then went to a party in a bar nearby. It was there that I heroically failed to have my photo taken shaking hands with Guy Richie, Dexter Fletcher or Sting, was sworn at by a drunken man as I awaited my mojito, broke my watch strap and bumped into someone that I hated who went to my school.

On the plus side I avoided watching my football team getting humiliated.

I am going to send many letters out to my listees tonight, as I realise I haven't done so for almost a week.