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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

One day a few weeks ago, I did a good thing that means that I am going to go to heaven, and I did it out of the good of my own heart and with the tiniest of chances that I might meet a famous that I love but that's not the point, because I did it for someone else, and I'm a great person who might even become a guardian angel or something like that, so you'd better be nice to me because I'm going to be BFF with Jesus in a bit.

The story goes:

I won a ticket to see David Gray at the O2 Festival in London Town. I won this because Little Sister Edel pointed me in the direction of a website giving away free tickets, and for that reason she too will be in heaven, although in the second class heaven, rather than the first class section I'll be in, but I'll be able to visit her sometimes and bring her food parcels.

On the morning I was going to see David Gray, I got a phone call from my Daddy, who asked me if I still knew David Gray. Without going in to too much detail, my Dad seems to think that I'm on at least speaking terms with everyone that was ever famous because (a) I used to write reviews for a newspaper and (b) I'm a friend of a friend of Ricky Gervais. So, instead of saying no, and explaining how these things work, I just asked him what he wanted.

He explained to me that one of the patients from the hospital he works in has recorded a music album, and he had said to Dad in the past that he was a huge fan of David Gray. My dad wanted me to get an album signed for this guy, with a good luck message about his album. I said sure.

Long story shorter: I spent the day on email and google, trying to track down a contact name for someone who could help me out. I considered just running at Mr Gray during the gig, but remembered how high up the stage is at O2, and how I'm not allowed do that kind of thing any more, what with the barring order.

I even took to emailing the astonishingly gorgeous Shaun Keaveny at Xfm and promised him all sorts of sexual favours in return to getting me closer to Mr Gray. Lovely Shaun did a lot to help out, but in the end I managed to corner Mr Gray's manager, who incredibly kindly gave me this:

After sending the album to Dublin, Paddy was kind enough to send me back a signed copy of his album Stand and Deliver. It's fantastic, it really is, and everyone should buy a copy. I might even play it for Jesus, when we're sitting relaxing in heaven on his dad's right hand.

Rock on.


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