2003-09-12
I was showing interest at Orsett Country Fair the other week. It's one of those green wellies and wax jacket jobs where the local council house riff raff come to pick pockets and inject the horses. It makes for a great day out in the gymkhana. Dave, my photographer hadn't turned up. Sobered up. The only time Dave ever turned up early in a field on a Saturday morning was when he slept there from the night before. After stepping through horse shit, avoiding runaway traction engines, and writing imaginery reams of text into my blank notepad as dozens of wannabe TV gardeners showed me their prize marrows, I was delighted to see one of the local 'yuff' get his foot caught in a guide rope and then be propelled two hundred feet in the air underneath the bottom of the 'Forty pound a helicopter ride'. Priceless. Words can't describe the aerial vomit display as it splattered the hedgerows, parked cars, and twee little picnics the country folk were having off the tail end of their four-by-fours. I hate those fold-away stools, don't you?
Anyway, as I was glancing skyward, I noticed a rather bold political statement: "Only a fool would invest in Thurrock" - being trailed behind a plane. This was none other than the legendary Terry Holding. He has some sort of beef with the local council over land etc etc. I did a 'up close and personal' profile on him for the rag a few months ago. Basically, an 'up close...' is just an excuse to get into someone's house and drink as much of their finest malt as you can, as you comment on their fine taste & poor present demise. What a daft fucker! He's even done a mail drop to 'The Voters' - postmarked from the Republic of Canvey Island. It's no good Terry - we all know where you live.
I nearly avoided all celebrities this year. Unfortunately, the Gov'nr had scheduled an interview with Jade again. He's got this thing for the ex-Big Brother slapper - hence Dave was supposed to be their to take lots of wide angle cleavage shots for the Gov'nrs private collection I was dreading having to talk to Jade again. She flopped into the tent like a lycra beached whale and I pissed myself laughing right in her face - I think the afternoon in the beer tent didn't make the her anymore appealing than watching Dave appear at the tent entrance covered in streaks of vomit whilst removing bramble from every orifice.
I doubt we'll be getting an invite back next year.
Catch you later
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