Apart from that murder. I'm never talking about that.
1 ~ I was once in a furiously hot bar where the bouncers would, with menaces, slam shut the windows we kept opening. The heat eventually got to me and I demanded to see the manager where I pretended to be from the Health and Safety Executive so I could hurl abuse at him. It took me about 30 seconds to be overwhelmed with guilt as he stuttered and sweated his apologies because he was also under orders from the council to keep the noise down.
Actually, that's a pretty lame story. Sorry.
2 ~ I wear a stud in my left ear. Have done for nearly, uh, 20 years.
3 ~ I once auditioned to be the Milky Bar Kid on my mother's insistence. I was
4 ~ I am known to apply talcum powder to my crevices post-shower, to speed up the drying process and smell slightly clean and perfumey. There. I said it.
5 ~ I used to collect comics. My oldest one is from 1899 and phenomenally racist. They are now rotting away to a brown mulch somewhere near Watford.
6 ~ I was once many years ago sat in my room having a perfunctory wank to some pornography. As soon as the filthy act of self-abasement was over and I had deposited my issue into a paper receptacle, I switched off the television and sighed. It was then that the dark screen caught the reflection of the window cleaner doing his job directly behind me.
7 ~ My Mother recently wrote an angry letter to the Daily Mail. She wanted to vent her anger over what rotters Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross are.
I am related to this woman.
8 ~ I used to know Matt Lucas in the briefest and most tenuous of ways when I was younger. His Dad and my Dad were acquaintances. I would've talked to him more when we were shoved together, but he was bald and I was 12 and judgemental.
9 ~ I was, a few months back, on holiday in Prague. It was extremely pleasant, other than the fact that as a single man abroad, I failed to pull a lady. Having said that, the nearest I got to female contact was in a bar near the Kafka museum. I sat there feeling slightly sheepish while she chainsmoked, looking all blonde and modelesque and stealing glances.
"Is she keen?" I dared to wonder as she asked faintly probing little questions about myself. Could I possibly, and for the first time in my life, be about to indulge in a brief if physically intense classic Holiday Romance™? I thought it best to smile and play it cool, pop into the bathroom to freshen myself a little more confident, and see where things lead.
It lead to the toilet, where I found myself producing a stool of such immense girth and length that several flushes couldn't budge it. Continued attempts would've flooded the room, so I'd ended up balancing a now shitty brush on the edge of the seat and walking out in shame.
For some reason, I was no longer in the mood to chat.