Which Was Nice
February 22, 2008
The flight home was delayed which turned us into the last flight out of Nice that evening, when who should be checking in at the same time as me but Little Britain’s David Walliams.
I racked my brains for things to say him, you know, catchphrases just to be annoying. I wouldn’t have done it, but I was killing time but dreaming up scenarios where I could have. “I want that one.” No, although possibly for later if we are in close proximity and choosing something on the plane. “We’re LADIES.” Doubtful, given the current security climate. Oooh, or maybe I could ask if he has any pirate memory games.
No. I had nothing to work with except my pride and decency, and - well – you read this site. So I said nothing while the lady at the desk checked through bags and answered questions apologetically.
Walliams. I thought about introducing myself and Claff Jones. “I have a website called Thas As Thas.”
While I was waiting for takeoff I went to one of the duty free shops to look at a shirt I saw in the window. It was by some bigshot designer label, Hugo Boss, I think. Something expensive anyway, and probably so fancy that I’d think twice before setting off to even buy their after-shave for fear of being, you know, a bit poncy.
I have one smart black shirt, but it’s kind of faded. It’s more John Major than Jonny Cash. Not so much in with the outlaws as out with the inlaws.
To be honest, it’s not my manly apparel I’m worried about damaging. It’s just that I’m not that flash. I don’t buy clothes that make a statement – they’re more likely to have a confession beaten out of them.
I am on fucking FIRE today.
Finally on the plane, the pilot makes a clear pronouncement that I don’t understand. Something about batteries not working and engineers struggling with the problem all day. Struggling is not a word you want to hear when you get on a plane.
The takeoff was fine but I kept thinking that if we did go down, it would be “Hey, did you hear about David Walliams? Man, yeah, plane crash.” As if dying screaming in a ball of flames isn’t bad enough, it must suck balls to die in an event in which a celebrity buys it, because you know that any hack reporting the crash will look at the passenger list for anyone remotely famous. “Holy fuck! Timmy Mallet. Timmy Mallet Mallet? Timmy Mallet ‘Mallet’s Mallet‘ Mallet?”
And then anytime anyone you knew in the realm of the living mentioned it they would get “Didn’t someone else die in that? Yeah, who died in that? Some presenter person who used to be on the telly. I mean obviously they used to be, but a long time before the crash. No, don’t tell me. I’ll get it in a second.”
After we landed and limped towards the gate at Heathrow, the pilot said sorry for the delay and complained about the “faulty” aircraft. Before takeoff, he played down a minor electrical fault, and after we landed he berated a “faulty” plane.
Still, better late than never.
“Computer says no.”
Damn.
17 comments
God damn you. I was all ready to chip in with a “computer says no”, and you slipped one in at the last minute.
Do you think I’m bovvered?
Um no, wait. That’s wrong.
Timmy Mallet ‘Mallet’s Mallet‘ Mallet?
OMG LOLZ. Nice post.
“I don’t buy clothes that make a statement – they’re more likely to have a confession beaten out of them.”
This, my friend, is the funniest thing I’ve read in quite a wee while…
And yes. Also what they said about it being funny. You most certainly are on fire.
I don’t believe you about Mr Walliams, I saw him at the theatre last night in the audience!
Katy – Thanks. Also for the POTW nom.
Angry – Thanks very much also.
Peach – He was in Nice on Tuesday night on my very flight back to London. Him and olympic rower James Cracknell. http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/tv_and_radio/sport_relief/7250880.stm
As opposed to Chocolate Cracknell. Wendy. Thanks. Face.
Sarah Cracknell might have been interesting…
Anyway, lots of funnies there Cliff. You definitely hit the ground running, as opposed to hitting the ground in a ball of flame after a mid-flight malfunction In which case you would most certainly have been on fire. Good for us, that that wasn’t that and that this is this is.
Oh, and nice double-meaning in the post title too.
Or Nice double-meaning, some might say.
::: hangs head in shame ::: I can’t believe I missed that opportunity.
YOu know, juwt as an aside, it’s not at all a given that CLiff would have burst into flames had his aircraft hit the ground, It’s dfar more likely that he’d have been torn to pieces no bigger than a can of soup.
What flavour?
Tomato with cheese in.
Phew. Sam just killed this one dead. NOONE can argue with that.
Nice one.
Campbell’s chunky Rigatoni and Meatballs.
I’m out with the in-laws tonight, and I’ve just realised that the nice new smart shirt that I’d readied for the occasion is stuck back in Nottingham. And then I read this. Cosmic.
Being out with the in-laws is perhaps safer than being in with the outlaws, right?
My favourite Cracknell is Sarah out of Saint Etienne.
Leave a comment. Play nice. I will turn this blog around.