This is Samantha Mumba. SMumba if you will. She got married over the weekend, presumably to the man standing next to her.
SMumba had a few songs in the hit parade a while back, which called for us to pop on our business bonnets and interview her. We think we were holding a pen at the time.
Now, normally, we pop out to interview famouses. A restaurant, a hotel room, back of a moving vehicle, their manager’s office, Mariah Carey’s private jet, Tony Bennett’s New York apartment overlooking Central Park, Carly Simon’s Greenwich Village townhouse, The Osbournes’ country retreat, that sort of thing. We’ll go anywhere. With or without a pen.
This time, however, we didn’t even have to leave our office. For the famous came to us.
‘It’s SMumba!’ went the intercom, and before we even had time to Google this ‘SMumba’, there she was. She was muttering ‘Don’t wanna love you if you don’t love me’ under her breath, which was a little presumptuous.
‘Can I just pop to the loo?’ she asked. ‘Phew!’ thought we, as we punched ‘SMumba’ into Google, before becoming engrossed with the details of an SMU MBA offered at a Texas university.
‘Finished!’ piped the pop starlet, as the flush went and the door opened, and we thought long and hard about whether she was in fact Michelle Gayle.
We’re going to fast-forward the next bit because we’re friggin’ starvin’ and Cafe Boheme down on Old Compton Street does half price breakfasts on Mondays, if you’ve got a special keyring. Suffice it to say, we interviewed her, and we were bloody good at it.
So SMumba came and SMumba went, but just after the went bit one of our office skivvies popped to the loo. It was the first loo visit post-SMumba.
‘Come and look at this!’ yelped office skivvy, with palpable glee.
And you don’t have to be Angela Lansbury to figure out the rest.
This celebrity, seen here on the happiest day of her life, once left a floater in our toilet.,