Last night, the other Green Wing types and I went for a drink/catch up in London's fashionable Brick Lane, which always strikes me as being like a very weird cross between Nathan Barley and the last fifteen minutes of Children Of Men.
After sitting in a quiet bar for an hour or so, we left the building to find a couple of thousand very excited young people accompanied by television crews, all peering in excitedly. Naturally, I assumed it was blog fans*, and pushed Stephen Mangan to one side to allow them greater access to me, but it turned out Radiohead were playing a secret gig at that very venue.
We pause for a second, considering whether we should go back in and see THE GREATEST BRITISH BAND THAT HAS EVER BEEN.
GW WRITERS: I need my tea.
GW ACTOR: Should probably get back to the baby.
C4 EXEC: I need to catch the train.
ME: Ooh, they'll have finished cleaning my hotel room by now.
So we didn't see them in the end. This is a rubbish post, apologies.
* The monstrous, only-semi-ironic egotism of that bit is made almost viable by the folowing bit of phone dialogue:
ME: Hello, is that Channel Four rights department? I just need to chase up a couple of things.
NICE PERSON: What's your name?
ME: James Henry
NICE PERSON: Blue cat?
Channel Four rights department are ace and on their behalf I demand pay rises and all the holiday they want, starting now.