ms hood in bed with the independent
am i going in reverse?
a 17hr day for a 5 minute shoot?
left farm at 7am and DTT picking up the frances on the way in.
took a train to manchester
knowing we were a little early, i thought i'd ask the PR if we could dump our lights while we went off for lunch.
PR didn't like the idea and said we were 5 hrs early (?!@£$%!@???) and there was nowhere to leave our lights.
she then put the phone down on me.
diverted the taxi to the nearest reasonable hotel and checked in for the night.
made the mistake of eating dinner at somewhere awful called 'frankie and benny's" (?) date raping my digestive system.
had to return the strawberry daiquiri.
'what's wrong with the drink sir?', asked the manager.
'it's fucking disgusting: i can't drink it: it's like syrup with alchohol'
'i've been making this cocktail for 18 years and i've never had a complaint'
'i've been drinking cocktails round the world for more years than that and trust me: this is disgusting'.
the steak/gristle thing was inedible too.
after some more time waiting in separate beds back at the hotel with ms.hood, we were summoned to our location:
the lyric theatre where 'britain's got talent' was being filmed.
checked out of hotel.
think the hotel thought me and frances had had an enjoyable few hours (nod nod wink wink)
arrived at venue where audience queing seemed to think i was a contestant.
i was there to photograph 'mr simon cowell' and a girl called francesca.
shot for 5 minutes in total.
didn't get to see piers morgan (who i shot before christmas) or kelly brook (who i shot in a rubber nurses outfit when she was 18: ha! shhh)
then did cab to train to perou-mobile to farm back again.
i ache.
of course i got paid LOADS so it was all worth while (...ur?)
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