So, there I was, planning on singing like a canary and sharing all the dirt from the other night’s Glamour Awards with you but I’m not sure how much I actually managed to hear.
You see I was unfortunately sat right next to a table of people so feral Shannon Matthew’s mum wouldn’t have them round for fags and Boil-in-the-Bag. The Lotto Lout would wince with shame if he turned up on this freshly Tarmac-ed drive.
Yep, ambassador really spoilt us by placing me right near charming Lily Allen and family who had turned their table into the smallest council estate in the world for the night…
How those people manage to communicate with each other is beyond me. They honestly sounded like stroke victims. ‘Arrplh?’ shouted the one with the pink hair and shotputter legs. ‘Yaaaargjh Liaaaaaleh?’ replied the plump sweaty brother who had hair like a deaf child from the 70s. ‘Champpoooogal. Mee waaaaggh champoooogal,’ screeched the fat pink one again. And then they heckled the stage. Oh, how hiliarious. And then they yelled! My aching sides! And jeered! Oh my god, it’s Oscar Wilde!
Mind you, when you’re the child of the actual real life man who has sung ‘Vindaloo’ and appeared in Celebrity Poker Club and Adrian Mole: The Cappuccino Years, how can you expect to stay grounded?