Almost Famous

I'm terrible with names. I misplace them or get them in the wrong order or attach them to the wrong people. A fine example of this was in a impromptu history test at school when I attributed Chicago bootlegging, gangsterism and tax-evasion to a Mr Al Pacino.

A few years ago I found myself in the curious position of being a runner on a children's television show. As the new boy I was given one job: schmooze the star guest and tell the 2nd AD when he's ready. The star in question was Sir Bobby Charlton and we were filming an segment outside with a bunch of kids.

"Which one's Bobby?" I asked, to be told he was the Manchester one. No no, I meant what does he look like? A general gaze of "You have got to be kidding" from the catering staff washed over me. Average height with a comb-over was enough information for me and so I stationed myself at the car park entrance, awaiting the arrival of the great one. After sometime a car pulled up and the passenger-side window rolled down. A-ha, here was my man, he even had a "B. Charlton" badge on.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," said I as the man exited the vehicle. We had a lovely chat that I managed to keep well away from football and my complete ignorance on the subject. I took him to meet some of the kids and did a quick tour of the location. We grabbed a sandwich and then headed to the make-up trailer. What greeted us both was a sea of blank faces.

"Where's Sir Bobby?"

The man beside me shrugged and then, remembering something very important, raced back to the car park where the real Bob was pacing by the car, having been abandoned by his minder and the fool who's crap with names.

Comments

[Angelalala]

Oh dear.

*gigglesnort*

[Clare]

Some gigglesnorting going on over here, too...