Diary of an up and coming sociopath

The weather in these parts has taken a turn for the horrendous. I’ve resorted to wearing a coat but that only takes me so far as the broken air conditioning system at work which keeps us in draughty conditions all day long, and the only advice we get from facilities management is “Don’t turn on heaters because the thermostat is very sensitive” which is basically the same advice we got in summer when the heating was on too much, rather than not enough. You’d think a company that claims to be behind a good portion of the internet would know how to keep its workers at the right temperature, wouldn’t you?

Though on a lighter note, I’ve got the end of this week off, which was supposed to be because Tom was coming back from spain, but since that situation altered itself, I’m just glad that I can stay in the warm for two extra days. And now I’m planning to hit up Memorabilia on Saturday, so it serves as a kind of rest period before that. I haven’t been to a memorabilia since roundabout exactly April 5th 2003 (at least, I can’t find any subsequent evidence of going to onw) and whenever I go to similar events I’m always to be found saying something like “It’s almost as good as Memorabilia…” so instead of lamenting the fact, I’m going back to the source to see if I’m talking gibberish or whether it really is that much better. Depending on what the costs involved are, there’s a red dwarf cast reunion I might get in on somehow, as well as George Romero, but my usual behaviour in these matters is to go “£25 to meet some actor? Fuck that.” and just try and photograph them from afar just to prove I could’ve taken a shot at them if I really wanted them dead.

Speaking of which, I should let everyone know about my Sleb-about-town spotting.

In addition to Ricky Gervais, who I saw at lunchtime with Garry and Dipesh a couple of weeks ago:

Gordon Ramsey got on the same tube train as me in Leicester Square. I didn’t recognise him immediately but the people around me seemed quite excited by the fact, which alerted me to the truth.
Lenny Henry pushed past Ian and I while we were waiting at a cash machine in SoHo. I did recognise him in a vague “I know that face…” way but once he spoke and I heard his Brummie accent it all came flooding back.
Finally, while Nikki was waiting for me outside work, Jamie Oliver came out of the catering shop next door and when I came out of the building he was just about to leave in his Taxi.

Clearly, London is where it’s “at” though I’m not sure what it is and where exactly you can find it, but certainly we can deduce from this pattern of sightings that I’m right on top of it.

Speaking of which, Patrick Stewart is doing a one-man production of A Christmas Carol in December. The balcony seats are only £12, so we’re all going to get ourselves some cheapo tickets and generally turn up to make a nuisance of ourselves. The man is a titan, so I’m sure he can take a few star trek and X-Men geeks ruining his play. I kid. If you feel as though you’d like to join the assembled masses, let us know, we’re aiming to get tickets for a weekend early in December. Though, 3rd floor balcony, you may want to bring some binoculars…