I know that my audience with this former Celebrity King of the Jungle took place yesterday afternoon in Birmingham's theatre district and that I'm only now updating my internet-based diary, (10.04pm Wednesday. current score Manu 2 Blackburn 1. Johnny English just started on ITV), but today has been 'kinda hectic' as Snap would say. Remember them?
Today I've completed more radio interviews than I care to think about, the last of which made me sound like a castrato when I heard it played back to me (I'm not), I've just had a 'London Tonight' TV crew in my compact and un-bijou flat and I've lost my voice.
Note to self, don't let your life be ruled by that devious twosome of Mr Benson and Mr Hedges. Or as someone religious once said, "lead me not into temptation because I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way there."
More about the snowballing publicity of this project in my next posting, all a bit frightening actually, but for now- my meeting with Joe Pasquale.
Having waved goodbye to Carl Fogarty, I headed down to Birmingham on the A38, a lovely little route that took me near Uttoxeter, Southwell and various other places I've only ever seen mentioned in the Racing Post.
I almost got a bit lost around that sprawling collection of motorways on the outskirts of the City, Spaghetti Western or something, but eventually I found my way to the centre of town and parked in the Bullring shopping centre.
It was then that the BS really hit the fan.
I think they should call the sequel to Lost in Translation "Lost in Brum". I'm not talking about the "why thoy spuyk", an accent which I honestly really like listening to, but because the centre of the City is so confusing. I'd have been better of in the maze of the Overlook Hotel.
Although not being chased by a man with an axe.
On the one hand I was wise enough to print out a map of the City centre before I left. On the other, I was quickly informed by a friendly local that I was wandering around off the edge of the map.
Eventually I did find the Birmingham Hippodrome and the nice gentleman at stage door (who didn't want to be named here) was expecting me.
"Ok I'll take you down to where Joe and Ian are waiting." Ian was the man who helped me sort out all of the logistics of the meeting.
"What about me?" said a slightly insane looking young guy just behind me. "I'm a good friend of Joe, he'll remember me. Just mention my name (he gave it).
I think he continued by saying "...tell him I once met him in Bromley."
Me and my guide got into the lift, smiled and rolled our eyes knowingly. Takes all sorts I guess. In fact I was asked just today by a radio interviewer "how would you reply to someone who looked at your project and asked 'are you a bit of an oddball'?"
Can't remember my reply. I think I did a Catherine Tate "do I look bothered?", to which she should have said "I'm not sure. You're at the end of a phone line"
Joe was a gent. Ian took the picture you see above, before my host nipped back into his dressing, came back out with a signed photo for the auction and told my guide that he was more than happy to go and say hi to oddball upstairs. What a trooper.