Friday 1 April 2011


Have you ever typed a text and thought to yourself, damn this is funny, yet mildly inappropriate, and then pushed send, knowing the person on the other end would so ‘get it,’ cause, well, they get you, only to realize that you’ve sent the inappropriate text to the wrong person? Then you have that wide-eyed minute of panic when you realize that nothing you can do is going to get the text back. Fun, isn’t it?

Well the other night I did just that. I should back up so you fully understand the context. We went to an event the other night at Albert Hall in London. It was a celebration for Gorbachev’s 80th birthday and heralded his accomplishments as a man who has literally changed the world. There were awards given to other world changers – the man that invented the internet & cell phone to name a few, although to be honest, I think they both need a good swift kick in the head at this point, but that’s me. There was also an array of performances by a variety of artists (for lack of a better word); a very strange assortment especially when you find yourself listening to an opera singer, followed by the Scorpions, and then segue into Mel C from the Spice Girls. Huh, say what??! Perhaps in a moment of weakness Gorby had a thing for the Spice Girls back in the day.

Anyway, there I sat in my evening frock doing my best to hide the fact that I wanted to bury my face in the carpet from lack of sleep (I was staying at my Dad’s hotel and was sharing a room with the King, which is NOT a recipe for sleep), and of course on top of that, I was also starving. It was a four-hour affair with very little in the way of food and I am not one of those skipping meal types. In fact, I usually carry an array of snacks in my purse just in case I get stuck on the tube or in the middle of some natural disaster. Of course being all dressed up did not stop me from finding a bar within the building and almost hugging the man behind the counter when he said he had sandwiches. Evening gown be damned, that sandwich was inhaled.

So it was nearing the end of the show, and my sister and I had already done the full people watching debrief – we whispered of course, we’re not that uncouth – you know the dialogue: ‘look at her dress, wow that’s (insert word of description); holy heck Russian women are tall; check out the face work on that one; isn’t she a model?’ So once we had exhausted that, I started texting someone in regards to Bryan Ferry who was currently on stage. I’ll have to paint the picture so that you fully understand the amusing situation before me. There was Bryan, looking like he needed some major glucosamine – the man sounded great, but looked so stiff and hunched over I thought he was going to topple over and break into a million pieces. Fair dues, at least he was up there still doing his thing.

On either side of Bryan, in short mini glitter dresses were two go-go dancers (at least that's what they looked like to me). Apparently, there duty was to dance like they just got off the pole or were auditioning to get back on it. In short, you couldn’t stop thinking that Mr. Ferry just cruised thru Soho, passed a strip club and yanked them out of there by their hair and shouted, ‘dance, women, dance, I need to distract the audience from how tired I am!’ 

So as I was entering my slaphappy phase – I turn into a complete child when I have to remain seated for that many hours – I started texting someone who was also performing at the event. I referred to Bryan’s dancers as ‘hooker bookends’ and asked what strip joint he thought Bryan found them in, and if he too was going to use them in his act to shake things up a bit. I then hit send, feeling proud of my wit, only to realize that I had sent the text to my the childminder watching the King back at the hotel.

I then had that paralyzing moment where I feared that this young girl would think I was utterly mad waffling on about hookers and strip joints, and she would call social services and run off with the King. Thankfully she said she understood completely, and claimed she does the same thing all the time, and more importantly, had no plans on alerting the authorities. 

So Mr. Award winner cell phone man may have changed the world with his invention, but he also made things a lot more embarrassing! Thanks for that.

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