2003-09-11

I was covering the TV Quick awards for the local rag when a rather musty smell began to engulf me, and in a Tolkien like rumbling from the depths of the earth, an evil beast arose from below the table, it was the none other than Dennis Fucking Waterman himself. God what a state! He's never been the same since Johnners took his final curtain call early last year. But then Dennis, the potheaded fiend, could never walk the white line straight. He could snort it okay, as was transparently obvious by the way he was removing the silver ball bearing decorations from his nostrils, and cursing as he wiped the crusted fondant fancy frosting off his hooter. It was a good evening. I steered him off to the bar to avoid the rest of the Press, and spent the rest of the night watching him punch every third waiter that came through. He kept muttering about about the good old days - how he and 'Jack' would speed around the manor beating up villains. Sad old fuck, but what a great party animal.

I sent the captain of H.M.S. Nottingham a copy of the Highway Code and congratulated him on being a complete and utter twat for embarassing the country. I doubt he'll take up my invite for an exclusive interview and centre spread in the Grays Essex Courier.

Dennis is on TV tonight. "Canterbury Tales". One of those appalling preview websites lists it as "...The Miller's Tale is set in the curtain twitching world of Kent suburbia. John (Dennis Waterman) runs a pub and Bed & Breakfast and a regular Karaoke night......" - say no more - type cast. Watch for the waiter bit- see if they left it in. Enjoy.

Catch you later

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