I'm not someone who should be allowed out alongside celebrities. To illustrate this I'll tell you of the time I attended an end-of-film party in Los Angeles in which Harrison Ford was the star. Having been invited, it would have been rude to refuse, so there I stood, horribly out of place and hoping no one would notice me ploughing happily into the free wine.
I'll admit to being a little merry by the time I was approached by a guest who began talking to me. The conversation fortunately didn't seem to require much input from me but finally I ventured to say "I'm so sorry, I didn't catch your name?". He looked me up and down very slowly, there then followed an uncomfortably long pause, before he said "Harrison Ford"...
Ok, so you get the general idea? I'm not good at facial recognition, in fact I'd go so far as to say I'm downright terrible at it! I also have the honour of having been thrown out of Dan Tana's, a popular celebrity restaurant in LA, for taking a Sherbet Fountain sweet in with me and deciding, for reasons I no longer recall, to bang the tube filled with sherbet together between my hands to see what would happen. Unfortunately, the tube exploded, showering their guests with sherbet and I was asked to leave. Point being, I am simply not safe in these environments unless everyone in the vicinity has been well insured beforehand!
My main problem is that I come from a showbiz background, one of those Hollywood backgrounds that leads others to believe I know how to behave, leads them to assume I will have all the showbiz character traits naturally borne into me. Unfortunately, this is not the case! I'm one of those people who never comfortably fitted into that world. Once, as a child, my siblings and I were invited to take part in a film my mother was making. We were reliably informed it would be 'fun'. My sisters played princesses and looked beautiful, one brother played a prince, another a page boy. I, on the other hand, was given the part of a 'munchkin' and dressed in a furry green costume which covered most of my face and had two long antennae attached to the top. These days I'm sure Health and Safety would have something to say about placing a small child inside what was essentially a roast-bag! Anyway, you get my point? I've always been rather on the outside looking in.
However, I'm currently producing a documentary which necessitates me occasionally having to endure these events and, to this end, I recently begrudgingly agreed to meet someone at The Groucho Club in London. I hadn't been to The Groucho for quite a while and the last time I met someone at a private members club, I obviously appeared so dodgy that I was refused entry and made to wait on the steps outside until my invitee arrived to vouch for me and guarantee I would not steal from anyone on the premises! By the time they allowed me inside, I was mostly incapable of coherent speech which was no doubt a relief for all.
I also have is an unaccountable desire to tell the truth and this rarely goes down well. Try as I may to avoid saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, I seem to be auto-programmed to do just that. Don't ever ask me if you look fat in anything as I'm bound to answer in a disappointing way!
Getting back to The Groucho...Off I went, having done a cursory Google search to discover that Sienna Miller had worn jeans on the last occasion she had visited and therefore I should be fine in mine! Having been there on many occasions in my dim and distant past, I felt it unnecessary to allow extra time to find the place. That was a mistake! The first time I walked up the street I walked straight past it and ended up at a 'Gentleman's Club' which seemed to be operating for some other purpose entirely!
I eventually located the place and I loitered outside the door for a while, wondering where exactly I might be asked to wait on this occasion! Finally I took a deep breath, walked in, and, darn it all, they were charming! The Groucho seems to have remained as quiet, peaceful and unassuming as ever. There may well have been a plethora of extraordinarily well-known guests sitting in the bar alongside me but, as evidenced above, I'm not a reliable witness!
On the plus side, I seem to have survived another week in the London media fray without doing anything truly dreadful. However, there is always next week...