Wherein FH single-handedly saves the world!
This weekend, the Fag Hag decided to devote some downtime (that is, the few hours in the day not spent watching Big Brother) to saving the planet. Well, almost. What I actually did was go to London’s not very glittering Wembley Stadium to watch Live Earth. And before you ask me if I was down in the mosh pit or tottering around hospitality laden down with laminates – take a wild fucking guess…
The celeb turn-out was rather impressive and the Fag Hag found herself rubbing shoulders with all manner of what-have-you’s, from Boris of Becker to James-rhymes-with… but by far the nicest man of the day (and the only one who can almost literally lay claim to be saving planets) was Dr. Who.
As he found a quiet corner in the stands towards the end of the show to watch the 50-year-old lady with bulging veins weilding a guitar to ‘Ray of Light’, a noise that sounded like the funk of forty thousand years came from the seating area below: ‘DOOOOOOOCTAH! OIIIIII! DOOOOOOOCTAH!’ said a 50-year-old man, rudely, thrusting a pen and about a million bits of paper at the charming Mr. Tennant’s face. ‘OIIIIII, SOOOIGN THESE DOOOOCTAH!’
Instead of defecating on them and smearing them all over the man’s bald dome, as I would have done, he cheerily signed everything with a big smile before spending the rest of the evening dealing with the rest of the autograph queue that had built up and posing for mobile phone camera pics being thrust in his face.
Of course, there’s only one problem with high-profile people as easygoing and charming and Mr. T: it makes you realise what terrible moaning old spoilt cunts most of them really are (no names mentioned Reg… cough… Dwight… cough, cough).