They Don't Get Much Bigger

I need to fill you in with what happened. A couple of weeks back Laura received a phone call at Pineapple asking her who deals with my diary. Laura promptly replied 'what diary?', as I don't have one. Well, I didn't - I do now, it's Laura!

Anyway, she took this person's phone number and I called back and enquired in my business voice, which is the same as my everyday voice, camp with a lisp, 'Who is this person who wants to take me to lunch, and what have they done?’

Well, once I checked him out on Google - actually I'm lying again, I didn't check him out; it was my ghost writer C, who is also a computer genius. In fact, I don't think there's anything he can't do. Oh, I must tell you about this raw food diet he's on at the moment, it's amazing. He's lost a whole person! Sorry, I digress, back to my TV executive.

After reading what he has done I felt like I'd had my prostate poked, it was that exciting! Honestly, it left me with stars in my eyes. I promptly replied, 'Yes, I will do lunch, as long as it's free and at The Ivy' - well, that is where everyone goes, isn't it? His P.A. did give me a date but I said I was busy. I wasn't really, I was just getting my eyelashes tinted around the corner with my cousin Carly, and that only takes 15 minutes! It's all a game isn't it?

So, anyway, it was yesterday, 1 o'clock. I arrived at 5 to 1, told the maître d’ who I was meeting and to my surprise he was already there, 5 minutes early! I do like a man that is prompt but not premature. So I went straight in there, kiss on both cheeks, didn't care what he was, straight or gay! It makes no difference to me; it's all about the personality.

And what a personality he had, he was an absolute scream! We spoke about my rising star for about two minutes and the rest of the time we were just pissing ourselves, telling each other stories - obviously mine were all x-rated. I didn't think I could be matched, but he hit me with a few belters, let me tell you!

Anyway, lucky for me - I suppose this is always good when you're with a huge TV exec’ - there was a girls' party in the corner, you know, all designer skirts and cheap knickers. Well, they recognized me straight away, could not get enough of me! One of them squeezed next to me on the banquette, with the other one telling me how I made her leak with laughter every time she watched the show. I hope she was wearing a Tena Lady. I loved them, my kind of people, real.

But honestly, it was like we were in Calabria, and Don Corleone and the mafia were on them! The maître d’ and two maître downs (I don't know what you call them when they're not the maître d’, they're aspiring to be) were trying to clear them away from our table with a look of panic of their faces. The maître d’ was frantically apologising in a French accent and my TV executive whispered in my ear, ‘He's not French, I've seen him somewhere.’ I thought I bet you have.

Anyway, it works out he was from somewhere like Barnsley, I can't remember. When the girls were finally pushed away from our table he said in his French Barnsley accent that they had 'slipped through the net'. Thank God I'm agile; otherwise I would never have got in! Mind you, a net has never stopped me before, no matter how big or small.

What I'm trying to say, let's not beat around the bush, is that I had a wonderful lunch with a TV exec’ who wasn't a wanker and didn't feel the need to impress me. And believe me, after a great lunch of bangers and mash and sticky toffee pudding with extra toffee sauce, the last thing you want is someone feeding you bullshit.

Oh, but I did make it very clear to him that if we ever do work together in the future, he will be rinsed! Rinsed! Darling, I'll put him through the spin dryer!

Who knows, I might even own my own Housing Association flat, and move up from a Hyundai i10 (5 years warranty may I add) to an i30. I'm just going with the flow!

I need to go now, I've got to drop the kids off at the pool, and I’ve already missed my slot, which is normally 9.30am. It's 10.05am and I'm touching cloth!