Greeting the 500

Day 92 - Greeting Bill Kenwright

I have just glanced at the 'Tally' category, in order to remind me how I'm faring in my bet. Answer, not brilliantly. I DID notice, however, that meetings that I have either had or have arranged, now number fourteen.

It therefore thankfully seems, and mercy be to him upstairs (and I don't mean Mr Rumsey in flat 4), that neither Michael nor myself will be forced to skinny dip in the sea off Brighton Pier during the mid-winter (see 'forfeits'), and there will be no bearing of our souls, in a manner of speaking.

Yesterday I met theatre impresario Bill Kenwright in Maida Vale.

Initially I feared that I would be late because when I went to pick up Michael, who insists on taking the photos, and who unfortunately owns the camera, I found 'dozing-boy' asleep on his sofa. It was, after all, only 3.00pm. Shouting ensued, until Michael rolled off to have a shower, whilst I sank into the huge crevices in the sofa cushions where he had been lying.

As it turned out we made it to the meeting 25 minutes early and whilst standing by my car supping on Original Tropicana with juicy bits, and debating which building we were supposed to be going into, we saw Bill Kenwright walking up the street towards us, possibly midway through his afternoon constitutional. After brief introductions, the handshake was performed there and then, and we were also promised a couple of tickets to a West End show to put towards the RNIB charity auction. A most generous gift indeed. 

I hereby kindly thank Bill Kenwright for knocking one more person of my list of 500 to meet and for his kind donation. I also thank his assistant Emma who set everything up, and who has been most industrious and angel-like.

Day 92 - Reply (C.Richard)

My sleep patterns have been disturbed quite badly recently. I was awake this morning at 5.15, and despite desperately trying to drop off again, my mind was awash with all sorts of thoughts. Like whether or not all of the radioactive material from the former Soviet Union has been accounted for, what would happen if one looked at an ultra-violet light through infra-red goggles, and how an earth I might find contact details for Rachel Weisz.

Anyway, needless to say I'm rather tired now, but I still feel obliged to do some typing, as I received a most lovely letter from a lady called Gill, who is an assisstant to Sir Cliff Richard. She seemed desparately upset that she and Sir Cliff would be unable to help me, for alas "...he is overseas for much of the next two months."

However, she did state that "I will keep your letter by me and if some unexpected gap appears in Sir Cliff's schedule between now and Christmas, I'll let you know." I shall thus put him in the 'maybe' pile.

I'm off for a lie down now. Until Monday. Actually, My fatigued state reminds me off some grafitti I once saw on the toilet wall of a Happy Eater on the M6. I think it said somethign like: "I used to suffer from narcolepsy but I'm alright n    ". 

Day 95 - Replies (T.Robinson, T.Rice)

Today has been something of a mixed bag. On the plus side, I was buoyed to hear in the news that Ai Ai the chimp had managed to quit smoking (see here) as this shows great fortitude of character and is a lesson to us all. 

Apparently she started the dirty habit following the sad demise of her mate, and swifty became a 20-a-day, erm, Pan troglodytes.

I suppose it's a bit odd then, that just a couple of days after gorillas are, for the first time, spotted picking up sticks and using them to benefit themselves, aiai has dropped leaves for the same reason. The fact that she's been caged in a Chinese zoo, however, does beg the question as to how she's been able to nip down to Londis to buy her 20 Rothman. Actually this is not a laughing matter.

I must quit this evil habit too, particuarly as I suffer from acute hypochondria. Generally though, I'm as fit as a butcher's dog. Unfortunately, the dog in question is the mangy schit-zu in the corner whose just eaten the entire tray of lamb cutlets.

This post is concentrating on health issues, since I am looking at the forfeits that I may be obliged to carry out if losing this Greeting the 500 bet, and I'm noting that as I approach the '20 greeting' benchmark, I am less likely to have to run next year's London Marathon. And should, by some astonishing quirk of fate, I pass the '275 greeting' mark, Michael will have to run it. That I'd like to see. A man who gut-wise is so large, that he irons his shirts in a wok, having to run 27 miles. There's no way I could force him to go through with that. Actually, scrap that comment (his shirts are never ironed).

Anyway, 2 replies today, one 'yes' and one 'no', a further illustration of the curate's egg of a day that I've been scoffing.

Tony Robinson, comedy actor and archaeologist, will sadly not be able to make it. Sir Tim Rice, on the other hand, has generously agreed to meet me, and for that, I salute him as a gentleman, and no doubt a scholar.

I myself have had something of an epiphany recently. Today I am off the belief that a great deal of the oblique references that I've been making on this website, such as to the writings of Neitsche or to the quotes of the Chuckle Brothers, are not being understood by everyone.

I'm off this belief because people have been emailing me telling me so. I've thus decided to tone down my pompousity, to stop spouting so much effluence and to knuckle down with writing only about my challenge. Also sprach Julian.

Day 96 - A Sad Day

I, like everyone, was very upset to hear the news about Ronnie Barker. Whilst I am certainly not qualified to make any particular statement about this news, I do know that as a child growing up in the 70's and 80's, I remeber him as one of the funniest men around.

Sometimes I wish that life today could be like it was back then, when no-one was interested in sudoku and mobile cameras, and when you didn't have to utter profanities or humiliate people, to be entertaining, and to raise laugh after laugh.

He was obviously a comedy genius and I just wish I'd had a chance to meet him. Michael mentioned to me that Ronnie Barker was one of the first names he came up with on my list of 500, because he was such an shining star to people of our generation. At some stage we will need to adjust the list. I will let you know when this happens.   

Day 98 - Nothing

As an Elfin Iclandic pop-singer once sang in her peculiar voice, it’s oh so quiet. Very little to report at the moment. I have two meetings arranged for next, week, one with a noted barrister, also known as the Prime Minister’s wife and one with a famed lyricist, yet of the 60 or so letters I sent out little over a week ago, only 2 people have replied.

I know how a poorly made soufflé feels. Anyway, despite being rather deflated at the moment, it is after all October now, when the weather closes in and daylight recedes. I’m am SURE, therefore, that almost everyone of the above-mentioned 60 has failed to respond because they are currently away in Marbella, St. Tropez (Pictured), Miami Beach or Prasat Hin Khao, getting some late autumn sunshine and that I simply have to play the waiting game.

I met my dad the other day, who in between sounding exhasperated that I didn’t have a ‘real’ job and lecturing me about how to use a Gilette Sensor Excel, gave me a bit of the old father to son advice. He basically told me to take my time and to think a lot, to think of everything I’ve a got and that I’d still be here tomorrow though my dreams may not (be). I stared at him with a puzzled expression, because I don’t listen to Cat Stevens or Boyzone.

“Take my time?” I’m nearly at the halfway stage of this project and I’m starting to tread water. There are no prizes for second, or to quote the finest ever film made about time travelling Scottish clansmen with the gift of eternal life, ‘There can be only one’.

Interest in what I’m doing, which for a period was definitely waxing, is now starting to melt. In the beginning, apart from everything being created, just 2 people looked at my website, my mum and John Lucarotti... You don’t know him. Following Yahoo’s help, an average of 1,400 people a day tuned in to see that I hadn’t updated for 48 hours. That number has now slid to an average of about 800.

I guess it’s not that important, perhaps I don’t write interestingly or I’m not fashionable enough. I’ve never even heard of Goldfrapp, a musical group which I’ve been led to believe is the benchmark of all that is trendy right now.

I sent an email to a prostitute the other day. I swear that that isn’t as seedy as it sounds. Last Friday’s Evening Standard had an article about popular Internet Based Diaries, (just for your information, they haven’t been the least bit interested in mine) and one was some so-called “amusing take on life” by this lady of the night, or more likely some male Oxford graduate writing it from his Hampstead garret. Yes I am jealous. I think my friend Paul mentioned it to me a while back.

I was wanting to have a link put to my website on hers (his). No response. Goodness me, what have we come to when even an information superhighway-based working girl-cum-scribe is too important, sorry busy, to reply to me.

Right, I’m going.

Day 99 - Reply (C.Balding)

The delightful and witty as you like TV presenter, Clare Balding, has been gracious enough to offer me a vast array of dates on which I might be able to have my photograph taken with her.

I have opted for another day at the races next month, because I am still desperately skint and need to gamble to win some money. And with logic like that, I can't lose.

As I mentioned to Clare in my response, having sent out almost half of my letters now, I attempt to guage in my head the reaction of each person who receives my strange request. I was always of the opinion that Clare herself would be accommodating because she just comes across as that sort of person on TV. And lo, I haven't been dissapointed.

the only other thing that I want to touch upon today, although I should possibly re-phrase that, is one of the emails that I received this morning, this one from a lady called Brandi who lives in El Paso in Texas. I'm not sure if she lives in the 'Old' part where the meat sauce comes from. I'll simply reply by saying that I disagree entirely with you, Scarlett couldn't be "Frumpy" if she tried. Obviously you've never watched 'Girl with a Pearl Earing'.

Day 100 - Reply (L.Rogers)

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant is the only way I can descibe the response that the lovely Lisa Rogers sent me following my request for help. Not only has she agreed to a meeting, which will obviously help me raise money for the RNIB, but she also laid into Michael, my idiot (see dictionary definiton) friend who set me this difficult challenge.

I hope she won't mind me including some of the text of the email here:

"Dear Jules,

Your friend Michael sounds completely hilarious, and a total grumpy ar*e.  If
I can, therefore, help in any way that means he has to pay unpleasant
forfeits, I'm more than willing to do so......(Details of meeting arrangements).....

PS  If you do get well over the 100 mark set by moody Mike, are we allowed to
watch as you make him dance naked round Leicester Square painted blue?  (or
whatever else it is you get him to do)"

In my reply, I pointed out that she was not only welcome to attend, but actively encouraged, as long as she turned up with a pointy stick with which to prod his leviathan frame.

Oh and well done England by the way, for qualifying for the World Cup in style. Yup, the style of a slightly injured racehorse that manages to somehow stumble over the line. 

Day 101 - Approaching Halfway

Before creating this website I made three vows to myself. I'd never discuss politics, I'd never use profanities and I'd never prefex anything with the word "uber", like some pretentious peewit music journalist who's disappeared up his own point of no return.

However, I would like to mention the fact that, in my opinion, the UK produces the finest milk on the planet, the fact that 'Aliens - The Director's Cut' = Aliens, and the fact that that, as I've just discovered, trying to open a tin of lychees (oooh, la di da) with a screwdriver is a fruitless excercise.

Quite literally come to think of it.

Sorry for chuntering on but I'd just like to raise another point here, in response to an email I've received from someone calling himself Joey Jojo Junior Jabadoo, although I'm guessing that may be a pseudonym.

No, Michael and I are not romantically linked. I mention him with such frequency because he is the person who set me this bet and because my wager is with him.

Just for the record, and I'm sure that no-one's that interested, I'm heterosexual, and Michael was likewise until his relationship with Chloe of the animal liberation front ended three or so years ago, since which time he has become more or less a-sexual. The fact that he lives 200 meters from the area of Hampstead Heath where single men take very long walks is entirely co-incidental. Honestly.

I'm nearly halfway through my challenge, which officialy ends January 14th. Therefore, amongst other things I did today, such as eating a scone in Swiss Cottage and replacing a bulb, I decided to compile another 28 letters, which takes me just 15 short of the halfway 250 mark.

As of tomorrow, these will be dispatched to none other than: Roger Moore, Lisa Faulkner, Stella McCartney, Simon Rattle, Caroline Aherne, Jeffrey Palmer, Richard Curtis, Jermaine Defoe, Alan Ayckbourn, Nicky Clarke, Simon Pegg, Anthony Gormley, Mackenzie Crook, Pete Waterman, Norman Foster, Keith Floyd, Alan Sugar, Chris Evans, Oona King, Darcey Bussell, Barry Hearn, Nick Ross, Clive Woodward, Helen Fielding, Alan Yentob, Michael Winner, Cameron Mackintosh and Zoe Wanamaker.

Right, Rocky IV's starting.

Day 102 - Reply (A.Ahmad)

Fair enough, despite it being Monday morning, at least it's warm and sunny, but nevertheless I am finding it hard to be content as I am absolutely exhausted. I couldn't be more shattered if I was a Wedgewood tea-set in a Hotpoint CTD40 Polar Condenser Tumble Dryer (with fluff filter and end of cycle alarm).

After a late night, I was awoken at 7.00am by Mrs Rumsey getting busy with the Dyson in the flat upstairs, and I didn't drop off again. Not to worry, more pleasant neighbours you couldn't wish to have. Mr R has on more than one ocassion invited me in for a glass of wine and he frequently offers me winning racing tips that I never seem to bet on.

Anyway, to lighten my mood, and I suggest anyone reading this who feels similarly prickly do likewise, I have spent much of the morning at work listening to the soothing music that can be found on www.aloneinkyoto.com.

It is a simple loop of my second favourite song from my third favourite film of all time (Lost in Translation) and is by the great French group Air. So you see, even France has some redeeming qualities. That's more than can be said for some of the people who comment about films on the Internet Movie Database. In describing the aforementioned Scralett Johansson flick, one person found it "refreshingly nonlinear. A delicately nuanced look at the mechanics of verbal and emotional miscommunication, igniting a spark of common humanity and yearning at the intersection between a mid-life and a quarter-life crisis." If my writing ever gets that pretentious, you have permission moi tirez.

Anyway, here is the news. In other stories, BBC Newsreader Asad Ahmad has most kindly agreed to meet me. I will see him on Thursday in between seeing Cherie Blair in the morning and Sir Tim Rice in the afternoon (and my mother in the evening , who want's me to try and mend her dripping fridge). I would like to thank Asad very much for agreeing to my request.

Day 103 - Greeting Lisa Rogers

I've had a blazing row with Michael this evening (who set me this challenge). He wants nothing more to do with Greeting the 500. He doesn't like the way I've been portraying him.

And he doesn't like the way I've been "speaking for him". The thing is I haven't, I've just been speaking about him. Anyway, looks like I'm on my own now.

Well the two of us met Lisa Rogers today outside a fashionable shop on Argyll Street this afternoon, and she was a real star. She was a little upset when we first approached her as apparently, some rogue in a post office had run off with all of her stamps. I told her that I had 250 of them at home, although they've all been earmarked for my letters, but had I known, I'd have brought some.

I don't think Lisa heard me because I was mumbling and bumbling a bit. I always go to pieces when confronted with a rare beauty. So we traded insults about each others respective football teams, did the old photograph thing and accepted her unbelievably generous auctionable memento, which was one of her outfits from the TV Show Scrapheap Challenge.

Lisa apologised that it was a bit grubby and hadn't been washed since she last wore it, and then Michael in his untactful and oafish manner said "don't worry we'll probably get more for it that way". The guy's a flaming liability.

"Scrapheap Challenge, that's a good name for the challenge that we're undertaking" he said to me as we were walking away, "Just without the 'S'".