This blog will be used for me to witter on about my heroes of stage, screen, music, politics, science, history and pen. But first a tribute to some unsung real-life heroes.
Night bus drivers.
They’ve saved my life a number of times. When the beer scooter ran out of juice, they were there for me. They put up with me not quite being able to talk or trying to use my Maestro as an Oyster card. They don’t mind if I cradle my head in my hands and moan drunkenly to myself. They get me home.
And I’m one of the nice ones. Seeing the stuff they have to put up with – the lary, loud-mouthed idiots who haven’t got any money, or who want to hold the bus doors open for their mate, or who don’t understand the concept of ‘full’. The teenage girls who think they are the next Girls Aloud when they stand a much better chance of being the next Roly Polys. The slick young hippetty-hoppetties who think they’re in downtown LA. The backseat widdlers.
So applause to the N-crowd. Thanks in particular for not minding that Christmas where I decided to sing ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ doing all the different voices, with my friend who thought every next line was ‘And tonight thank God it’s them instea-ead of yooooo.’ I’m not kidding. It was;
‘It’s Christmas time, there’s no need to be afraid...’
‘And tonight thank God it’s them, instea-ead of yooooo!’
And thanks, most of all, for that time at university, where I staggered up to the bus driver’s booth late one night after a cocktail frenzy. ‘Excuse me,’ I slurred. ‘Can you stop the bus please, I think I’m going to be si-‘
I never did get to finish that sentence. Sorry.