....So as I was saying, after leaving Lord Archer's flat, I noticed that the filming of John Major was completed. It was a wrap. I glanced hopefully at Mr Major's assistant who looked at another assistant who went over to have a word with the former Prime Minister.
Within a few moments, and to his huge credit, Mr Major approached me together with his entourage. As he drew near, I thought that I would break the ice by asking him if he had received my letter that was sent several weeks ago. He replied in the negative and asked where I had sent it to.
"I wrote to you at the House of Commons," I stammered. Mr Major smiled. "I haven't been working from there for some time I'm afraid."
Cue one embarassed young man in a cryptically messaged T-shirt staring down at his black leather Matalan shoes. You see my friends, all of my cogitating and hypothesising and analysing of statistics a couple of posts down, about the number of replies that I have received so far, fails to take into account one constant. My own bare-faced stupidity and general tittishness. If knowledge is 'King', then accurate research is almost certainly 'Prince Regent'. Mr Major generously shook my hand nonetheless, despite understandably being somewhat bemused as to what exactly it was that my project was all about. For this I thank him greatly.
On our way home, and on a similar subject, I discussed with Michael the statistics that I had compiled over the last few days. "Why is it do you think" I enquired, "that unlike with the male celebrities I've approached, I'm having such a particularly bad response from the female celebrities that I've written to? Not one reply from 23 letters sent".
"Perhaps they've seen a photo of you on your website," was his painfully blunt reply.