What Beadle was really about
I was really upset to hear about the death of the television presenter Jeremy Beadle.
The sort of pranks that made him famous with Game For A Laugh and Beadle's About were my favourite type of joke.
I met him a couple of years ago at a party in Wilmslow, Cheshire, hosted by a friend, Kevin Horkin, who's a showbiz agent and manager. My pal Stu and I arrived at Kevin's home for the fundraising do, which had a James Bond theme.
There was a guy wandering round in a monkey suit selling raffle tickets as we all had a drink and a chat and a bite to eat. It was a small-ish event, only 60 or 70 people there.
An hour or so later, when the raffle came to be drawn, the ape man pulled his furry head off - and it was Jeremy Beadle, absolutely wet with sweat, having been boiling hot in his disguise.
There was a whoop of delight, he'd gone out of his way to entertain people for a good cause - I think it was all in aid of Children With Leukaemia, the charity he was heavily involved with. What a good sport!
We knew Jeremy was friends with our host, Kevin, but we weren't expecting a cameo appearance that night!
Stu and I had a chat with Jeremy later on and he was a really pleasant, interesting bloke and surprisingly serious, he wasn't larking around trying to raise laughs like you might expect.
The tributes have been talking about him as the "ultimate joker" and a consummate prankster, who never stopped thinking of new ideas and formats. He's also been described as a deeply caring man who worked tirelessly for charity.
I used to love Beadle's About and the pranks in my family went further back than that. My mum was always springing practical jokes and anyone who knows me will tell you I love winding my friends up.
Once, I phoned the builder who's just installed a balcony at my club, on the morning of April Fool's Day, to tell him that it had fallen down and smashed to pieces on the courtyard below.
He'd jumped in the car and was halfway there to investigate, filled with horror, before I confessed the truth. Recently, I've had fun putting on a rubbery old man mask, glasses, a trilby and a trenchcoat to spook my clubbers.
I told my club manager, Ash: "There's an older guy I know coming down later on, can you make sure he doesn't have to queue and usher him straight in?" He spotted me in my get-up and duly called me through the throng, guiding me safely to the VIP area despite my strange appearance.
I was enjoying the joke so much that I had a walk round the club, making girls recoil in horror, not knowing if I was real or not, and confusing the boys. When people started saying: "It'll be Terry George," I gave the costume to my assistant, Mark, who in turn dressed up and did his own walkabout - while I strode about meeting and greeting friends and associates, perplexing them further.
The best thing, I think, about Jeremy and his pranks were that they gentle and well-meaning. Today in these times of Jackass, you've got to hammer nails into your body parts to get people's attention. Beadle, you'll be missed.
Corrie's unlikely clubber
The death of Vera Duckworth in Coronation Street seemed to be a rare soap moment that united a nation.
The actress who played her, Liz Dawn, is a lovely woman with a great, local, down-to-earth charm about her.
I've met her a few times at functions and events but none so bizarre as seeing her at Leeds club night Speed Queen, the domain of outlandishly-dressed youngsters.
What she was doing there - other than 'avin it large with her mates - I never found out.
Freedom for Goths
What harm were the Dewsbury Goths actually doing when a bus driver told them they couldn't board?
Dani Graves was holding on to a chain around Tasha Maltby's neck but so what? You saw the photos of them. Did you feel threatened? No, course not.
I can't believe anyone should have the power to stop you from going about your business because they're offended by the way you are. If that's what makes them happy then good luck to them, it's no-one else's business.
Nikki's quiet night out
I had the unexpected chance of a catch-up with Nikki Ann Sanderson when she turned up at Fibre on a quiet Thursday night.
I was just minding my own business for once, chilling out with some friends, when in she trooped with a crowd of fellow Heartbeat cast members.
Blackpool-born Nikki, 23, is best known for playing Candice Stowe in Coronation Street but she joined Heartbeat this year to play the part of Dawn Bellamy.
So she's now based in Leeds for the next few months, staying in a nice apartment near the city centre as she spends long days at the YTV studios and on location in the Yorkshire countryside, no-doubt togged up in funky 1960s outfits.
I first met her at Party In The Park in Leeds in 2006, which she co-hosted with Brian Dowling. In and around the acting she's been building up her career as a presenter too, not to mention the fact that she's a great singer too. I can't forget her impression of LeAnne Rimes on Stars In Their Eyes!
Nikki turned up dressed all in white, looking tinier than you'd expect. I treated her to a vodka and diet coke and asked her how she was. She's very giggly and actually pretty shy.
The group hardly attracted any attention which is proof that you can be a familiar face and still get out and about without needing 20 minders with you.
I'm a massive fan of Coronation Street, I love how it combines realism with comedy and it's always upbeat - EastEnders, I just have to switch it off, I can't bear the misery. I've always found Heartbeat a bit old and a bit slow, so I'm counting on Nikki to liven it up.
"I'm just finding my feet in Leeds," she said. Gesturing to all her Heartbeat mates, she said: "I'm relying on these guys to show me round the city. Depending on work, I'm going to be out quite a bit. I'm really excited to be in Heartbeat and I'm really excited to be in Leeds."
Anyone who works in TV drama will complain about having to be on set at 5am and still perfecting their scenes at 8pm so be careful, Nikki, you don't want to be working long days with a hangover, love!
Can I get my Champagne back please?
I bought two diamond-encrusted magnums of Champagne at the airport in Thailand, but when I changed planes at Amsterdam to come to Leeds, they wouldn't let me take them through the scanning system.
I'd spent over £100 and I was extremely annoyed. I had to think quickly, if I wasn't going to be forced to bin them. I put them down in a shop in their bag, and went to board the flight. From the departure lounge, I phoned the shop saying: "I've just left these by mistake, but I'm about to get on the plane so I can't come back for them."
They said: "Ooh yes we've just found them, we'll keep them in lost property for you until you return to Amsterdam."
So, a few weeks later, I picked them up. I was finally reunited with my Champagne. It was deeply frustrating. How can airport shops justify selling stuff that you might not be allowed to take on a plane?
Watching Loose Women the other day, from what Jane McDonald was saying, it happens all the time - Jane and the other guests were recounting having to junk bags of expensive make-up and toiletries. What a waste, and what a disgrace!
It's true, I'm no culture vulture
Last week's column in which I described embarrassing myself by leaping up before the credits had roled at the end of a RADA screening of Sweeney Todd, while all the actorly types waited intently until the proper close of the movie, raised a few laughs.
My friend Dennis reminded me of a time when Michael and me had gone for a long weekend in New York and decided we had to catch a show. We bought tickets for Les Miserables, because that seemed to be the big one, and as ever we were running late as we raced into a restaurant for a pre-performance meal.
We ordered a set three courses but didn't have time for dessert. "We'll be back later for that," I said jokingly to the waitress. She said: "That's cool, lots of people come back for their dessert after they've been to the theatre." So we said: "Great, see you later!" and legged it.
Anyway, we found Les Miserables pretty dull and made a bee-line for the exit as soon as the curtain fell. Others were heading that way and I was really pleased we managed to get a cab before anyone else. When we got to the restaurant it was deserted. "Why are you back so early?" said the waitress, surprised. "The show's finished," we said. "Are you sure you haven't left at the interval?" she asked.
No wonder we'd managed to hail our taxi, everyone else was just heading out for a smoke! We'd left halfway through and not realised. Dennis called me a 'philistine' then and a 'philistine' now for my latest cultural gaffe. Oh well, I never claimed to be Melvyn Bragg!
Mark's triumph
Huddersfield policeman and former Mr Gay UK Mark Carter did brilliantly at the Mr Gay International contest in Hollywood - he was placed third out of 21 contenders. The Winner was Mr Argentina. What a result! All that time at the gym paid off!
Canapes and conversation with the stars of Sweeney Todd
I had a great time at a celebrity preview screening of the bombastic new musical blockbuster, Sweeney Todd.
A fellow star of Channel 4's Secret Millionaire, Margaret Heffernan, invited me along to this very exclusive RAD A event at Warner Brothers' head office in London.
Just 70 people were invited - their plush cinema, with its lovely armchair-like seats - only holds this number, and the place was teeming with familiar faces. Alan Rickman was the host with the most, he plays the judge in the movie.
With my civil partner Michael in tow, I strode up to Alan and introduced myself. He's very cool and collected, with such a presence about him. ''I'm Terry George,'' I said. Alan replied: ''I know who you are, I saw you on Secret Millionaire - my wife and I are such big fans of that show, we watched every episode!''
Wow, can you imagine that? I was surprised enough that Alan Rickman spends his evenings in front of the telly, and not out at sophisticated parties, never mind watching me on it!
My ego was instantly the size of a house and I spent a while chatting to Alan about Morocco - he told some funny stories about being stranded there without any money as a teenage backpacker. But most of all, he wanted to know about me and what I enjoyed most about being involved in Secret Millionaire.
I grilled him about the ins and outs of the film, though, and he told me that all the singing was recorded in a studio at the start. Then, when they were shooting the scenes, the actors were lip synching.
He told me all about RADA and how exclusive it is. Apparently every year 2,000 applicants are chasing just 30 places. Students pay £3,000 a year and the whole organisation is forever fundraising. Most of the kids in the Harry Potter films came from RADA.
All this was fascinating to me as it was my ambition, as a kid, to go to RADA. I told the TV comedian Dick Emery this when I met him and he gave me a cheque for £30 and told me to get elocution lessons. I think I kept a fiver and my mum took the rest to pay the bills!
Anyway, I had a bit of an embarrassing moment when I asked Alan: ''Why do you always play baddies? You ought to do a comedy,'' and he said: ''I've done loads of comedies!'' I replied: ''Sorry, I should have Googled you before I came here!'' We both laughed ...
Richard ''I don't belieeeeve it!'' Wilson was there so I said hello. He's helped me out as a judge before at the Mr Gay UK competition. I thought it was a one-off cos that time he was wearing suit trousers with big, white Nike trainers. Yet at this do he'd assembled the same sort of outfit - I dared not ask him why! I hope it's for comfort and not because he thinks it's a great look.
I also chatted to Timothy Spall who talked about the breadth of skills he'd learned at RADA, things you'd never imagine you would need in real life. But of course if you're an actor who appears in period dramas you'll need to know how to sniff snuff or carry a walking cane properly. He did some great impressions of a German teacher he'd had.
The buffet was incredibly posh with tiny lamb pasties and high-end hors d'ouvres. The film itself was great, too.
Michael isn't that interested in celebrities, he's quite happy to watch the world go by while I do all the nosy networking. But somehow he doesn't have to try, people are drawn to him like a magnet - especially women.
The actress Sylvia Syms, who played the Queen Mother to Helen Mirren's Elizabeth II in The Queen, was no exception she couldn't leave him alone, hugging and cuddling him.
During the movie she kept squeezing his leg. It amused me that Michael had made such an impression on the Queen Mum. She told us all about poor pregnant Helena Bonham-Carter's morning sickness during the filming and how difficult it was for her to do the gruesome bits.
At the end of the film, like I always do at the cinema, I started to jump up straight away to head out - I didn't realise that these luvvie types watch the whole credits right till the end, and only give a round of applause once they're over. Argh, what a terrible faux pas! You see, if I'd been to RADA, they would have taught me that!
Mark Carter's going to conquer the world!
Huddersfield policeman Mark Carter is the first Brit to be invited to take part in the Mr Gay International competition in Hollwood - he's been training hard and adopted a new diet plan and fitness program. I know because we go to the same gym!
Part of the experience for Mark will be a photoshoot and consultation with Charlie Lapson, a highly respected clothing designer who styled the first two years of the popular American Idol TV show and contributed to Will And Grace. He is in high demand for his styling talent by celebrities of Desperate Housewives and Ugly Betty.
There are 20 delegates in the contest, Mark will represent the UK, alongside bigger countries like Australia, USA, Canada.
Keep your fingers crossed for him!
What Kate did next
Ex Big Brother star Kate Lawlor was DJing at my club, Mission, the other week. But this party girl has turned over a new leaf and stopped her mad, hell-raising antics. She's now a presenter on Kerrang Radio's morning show so she has to get up early - and no amount of persuading would make her stay up till dawn like she normally does. All she wanted to do was get to her hotel and have a nice sleep. Ahh!
Ice ice baby! Celebs get their skates on!
Ice ice baby! Celebs get their skates on!
I absolutely adore light entertainment, there's nothing better than new talent-fests like X Factor and prime-time personalities of Strictly Come Dancing, sequinned up the the max, doing a quick-quick slow with a fixed grin.
It's the sort of stuff that you can sit and enjoy with your granny and your nieces and nephews as well as your partner on a Saturday teatime. Or a perfect indulgence - nothing too dramatic or involved to make your brain hurt - before a big night out.
Show concepts are often a lovely descendent of what drew families to crowd around the box in the past. So, the classic Come Dancing inspired Strictly and the magic of Torvil and Dean was reborn for the 21st century with Dancing On Ice.
A new series starts imminently. I'm bagging my place on the sofa right now - and I insist on being in charge of the remote!
All that murder on the dancefloor we've been obsessed with lately will seem pretty tame when, er, Gareth Gates hits the rink with a vengeance. Bradford's favourite pop star son is among the celebs said to have been lined up for the flagship show.
I bet he's good on ice, as he grew up near to the Bradford rink and no-doubt spent time there as a youngster. I used to love a trip there - I was so jealous of those great skaters who could glide around backwards.
The memory of Bradford and the excitement of this new series has made my mind up, I'm going to get my skates on and learn how to do it properly. Leeds gets an outdoor rink at this time of year and I'd love to show off there!
Ice skating has a camp image but macho sportsmen like Lee Sharpe and Kieran Bracken really take to it.
This time Greg Rusedski's supposed to be in the line-up. Samantha Mumba, Suzanne Shaw and Natalie Pinkman are also picking out sparkly mesh costumes, if you believe the press reports.
Apparently Hollyoaks actor Chris Fountain and Tim Vincent, formerly of Emmerdale, are there, too. Bizarrely, it's also said that Aggie McKenzie, as in one half of Kim and Aggie the cleaners, is raring to show the nation just what she can do on ice.
Will she take her rubber gloves off? I suppose if she doesn't wow the judges she can always run the Hoover around after.
Whatever happens, you can be prepared for a whole new goldmine of 'exclusive' interviews in the celebrity mags with headlines like: "Gareth: I'm back from the rink!" and "Sam's dreams are on ice!" or "Tim: I'm just a skater boy!"
Gareth's getting married
Talking of Gareth Gates, let's hope his icy commitments this year leave him enough time to plan his wedding, cos it's been announced he's getting married next New Year's Eve.
The former Pop Idol star proposed to dancer Suzanne Mole on New Year's Eve and the couple have agreed to tie the knot a year on. Gareth, 23, and Suzanne, 32, have been dating for five years.
He said: "After a great Christmas, I proposed to Suzanne on New Year's Eve and she said yes. We are both extremely happy and look forward to planning our wedding and life together."
Have you noticed that people, ridiculously, still raise an eyebrow when they're presented with a happy heterosexual couple where the female is the older of the two? No-one notices when it's the other way round, or in same-sex relationships. I wonder why that is ...
At least she's not old enough for shop assistants to mistake her for his mum - which happened to a mate of mine's partner in PC World, much to everyone's embarrassment.
"Ooh, they can be like this at that age, he's just like my son," joked the employee, when the younger partner said something that suggested he was picky about his computer accessories. "He's not my son," was the reply. Oops!
Alan's New Year
I can't seem to get through a column without mentioning my friend Alan Carr - he's doing so well at the moment, his DVD the Tooth Fairy was number two in the Christmas Chart, he's up for umpteen showbiz awards including the South Bank Show Comedy Award and he's got his own TV vehicle without Justin Lee Collins lined up - a camp-as-a-row-of-tents quiz show, Alan Carr's Celebrity Ding Dong.
Yet on New Year's Eve he shunned the London nightlife scene to herald 2008 in Leeds at my bar Fibre and club Mission. He and his mates had a great time glugging champagne in the VIP area - then he whisked my sister away to a house party at 4am. I couldn't go as I had to look after the club!
I am sure it was a big improvement on last year - he told Friday Night Project viewers that he was buying a chicken in a late-opening supermarket when the midnight bells went. Ahh!
Spare a thought for those troubled stars
Spare a thought for those troubled stars
Some people seem to really relish seeing stars in the gutter, down on their luck - it seems to be a reflection on the sicker side of British society.
People love buying the papers to see Britney Spears or Kerry Katona sprawling around on a lairy night out. Me? I just feel really, really sorry for them.
As everyone's knocking back the booze in the run-up to Christmas it's totally timely to take a moment and see just how easily it can all go pear-shaped ... or Pete-shaped.
Babyshambles frontman Pete 'Tweety Pie' Docherty is the undisputed King of bedgraggled debauchery, and he just carries on and on. How long have we been picking up Heat magazine to see him in and out of court, lumbering around in filthy clothes, with glassy eyes and spotty skin?
And poor Amy Winehouse is the Queen of the scene. She came to our attention as a strangely bouffanted retro soul diva, now despite being iTunes' most downloaded artist this year she's more famous for wandering around in her bra, loudly lamenting her unsuitable husband's incarceration.
The other thing is, no-one really understands what Blake actually did to end up in chokey. Well, do you?
The sickest thing is that the notioriety of stars like these seems to go hand in hand with their public profile. Everyone loves a rebel without a corset and Amy certainly fulfils that role.
There's another brilliant young soul songstress on the scene, Candie Payne, whose stunning album I Wish I Could Have Loved You More, is a lush soundscape of Dusty Springfield-esque chiming anthems ... but you don't seem to see her on anything other than serious music shows like Later With Jools Holland. She works hard, behaves herself and sings sweetly but she just hasn't the same currency as Amy.
You wonder just how much of all the druggy shambling is for real, and how much is put on for the paps. And then you actually think, "Um, not much." She seems genuinely out of control.
Things must be bad if your mum has to write an open letter to the News Of The World, trying to get you to come home for a warm blanket, a bowl of soup and some serious cold turkey.
"We want to help you, but we know that unless you want to be helped - unless you come to us - anything we tried would be in vain," wrote Janis Winehouse.
"I pile hope upon hope that your strong will can bend for just a moment to make that decision and come home to me. We were terrified after we saw those pictures of you earlier this week, wandering the freezing streets of London at dawn in your underwear. All I wanted to do was rush into those pictures and wrap you up in a big, warm blanket."
Feeling less Christmassy now? I am! It's easy for me to preach the evils of drink and drugs, being tee-total. One upside of our paparazzi culture is that we regularly see the celebs really in the raw without any old-fashioned airbrushing or stage management.
Could these images put young people off nasty substances? Well, they're scarier than the 'Heroin screws you up' adverts that freaked us all out in the 80s!
To pile on more doom and gloom, struggling with the demon drink and drugs is not necessarily a young person's domain - it's not just the enfant terribles who're having trouble.
One of my heroes, David Hasselhoff, has reportedly been in hospital with alcohol poisoning - I never even knew he had problems, he looked a picture of suntanned health when I met him last year.
So, moderation - that's the key, we might all love Amy but it seems like she doesn't really love herself at the moment.
My book's now on sale
Remember I told you all about a coffee table book of photos of the Leeds Rhinos I was putting together? Well, it's finally gone on sale today - £12.99 from the club's website if you're interested.
That's not a shameless money-making plug because all the proceeds are going to the Rugby Foundation, who do good work in schools to promote the sport.
The title of the book is Access All Areas and it's a bit saucy, there's a bare bum or two in there - I bet there'll be a few ladies whooping with delight if Santa brings them a copy ...
It was great fun to do, following the club all season. I made some new friends, learned a lot and it's been a brilliant experience.
Boy George's woes continue
Boy George is still in all sorts of bother, being sued in the civil courts for breach of contract with regard to personal appearances ... I went with a friend, a nightclub promoter, to serve him a writ - I didn't want to, I've known George for years and I didn't want him to think I was gloating - but my friend wanted some support so I was torn.
As you might have read in the papers, it was in the early hours at a club when we took the legal documents to George. All he saw, in the throng, was a bit of paper waved at him, which he signed, thinking it was someone wanting his autograph.
You couldn't make it up! When I saw George in Budapest a few weeks ago he was breezily making light of people wanting money from him. Let's hope he can pay off his debts and turn over a new leaf in 2008.
Verity and Lee call it a day
I was sad about my friends Verity Rushworth, the Emmerdale actress, and her Leeds Rhino boyfriend Lee Smith splitting up - a fact that's been documented in the papers.
They were touted as the Posh and Becks of West Yorkshire and cut a real dash out on the town together, attending the best events in the greatest clothes!
Having seen them both socially, they seem to be pining for each other but when you've got to go your separate ways and do your own thing, there's nothing else for it but to put a brave face on.
Lee's a rising star and Verity has ambitions to star on stage in the West End so good luck to them both.
How I became Joan Rivers' toy boy
The Royal Variety Performance - what a night! It was another mad, magical adventure that ended up with comedy grand dame Joan Rivers clamping herself to my side all night at the aftershow party and proclaiming me as her new 'toyboy'.
We even got papped together, arm in arm, outside the venue. Hilarious! I went along to see the event, held for the first time in Liverpool in honour of the city's impending City of Culture status.
The fun started when I didn't like my seat, right at the back, so I went and perched myself in an empty one three rows away from the Queen, high up on the balcony.
She was looking immaculate, just like she does on the stamps, with perfect hair, a cream-coloured top and a diamond bracelet. She carried a posy and Prince Phillip was there looking his usual self.
Security was really tight, they had bag searches and sniffer dogs. I'd seen the comedian Russell Brand, who was performing, in the days beforehand - once at his book signing at WH Smith in Leeds and then at Bradford's St George's Hall where he did an outrageous gig, with barely a routine that wasn't about sex.
Aside from the side-splitting smut, one thing he likes to do is borrow a phone from an audience member and ring a random number from an ad in the local paper. It was a firm called Carpet Busters that took the flak and got really irate with this mystery caller.
Anyway, he was much better behaved in front of her majesty. James Blunt, one of my favourites - I don't know why everyone seems to despise him so much - was performing too and Russell had a joke with the audience that when the Queen worked her way along the row of stars at the end, she'd be bound to pay James lots of attention, because of his military past.
He encouraged everyone to go: ''Ahem!'' for him, so she'd move on to Russell and he'd get a proper chat with her, too. Well as the show closed that's exactly what happened - the Queen got into a little conversation with James while Russell stood forgotten. The audience started laughing and coughing. Russell shrugged and held his arms out as if to say: ''See, I told you this would happen!'' It was a real comedy moment and really lampooned the usual stuffy protocol.
As the show ended I moved straight to the stage door where the doorman was one of many people that night to say: ''Ooh, I saw you on Secret Millionaire,'' the Channel 4 show I appeared on the week before last. I was a celebrity in my own right.
I called into Enrique Iglesias's dressing room - I've never met him before but I'm such a fan. I told him so and he confided that he was so ill, on antibiotics, that he'd been really close to cancelling his appearance. You'd never have guessed from seeing or talking to him - he's such a trooper.
I said hello to Soapstar Superstar judge Billy Salmon who was with Joan Rivers, another performer at the show. He introduced me to her and she said: ''Right, you can be my toyboy!'' linking my arm firmly with hers.
Up close she looks, ahem, a bit 'enhanced' but still very glamorous. We rode in her limo to the aftershow party and she was just so bitchy about everyone, lots of other celebs - it was so funny.
Once there, she had me running round fetching her drinks - she wanted wine so I brought her Champagne - but I didn't mind a bit. I loved it! She and her entourage finally decided to head back to their hotel and invited me along, but I decided to stay out and party.
Russell reappeared complaining that all people were saying to him was: ''Oh, aren't you tall!'' - he gets that all the
time - and hassling him for autographs. He sneaked away from the party early but not before he'd given me his mobile number and urged me to stay in touch.
I'm in his good books because I'd bought him a Family Fortunes board game for Christmas after he spotted one in WH Smith on Sunday and said he used to love playing it.
His parting shot was: ''Terry, when you write your column, can you tell Carpet Busters that I'm really, really sorry.
I just felt really bad when I'd put the phone down to them.'' So, Carpet Busters, there's your apology.
The coldest comedian Jimmy Carr
What a weird weekend I had. It started out with a mad dash across the Pennines to meet Alan Carr, then a night out with the stars of Celebirty Scissorhands, followed by the iciest of welcomes from Jimmy Carr - so obviously no relation to friendly Alan - and cosy drinks with Chris Moyles.
I'll just tell it like it was. Friday night, I was bored so I jumped in the car to go for couple of health-giving orange juices and a change of scenery in Manchester's bars. It's great over there, a perfect place to chill out and watch the world go by.
I'd barely been there half an hour when my phone went. It was Alan Carr, the Friday Night Project comedian.
''Where the bloody hell are you?'' he barked, in mock annoyance. ''I've come to Fibre to surprise you and you're not bloody even here!''
He'd been packed off on a train up north at the last minute by his agent, Off The Kerb, to do a BBC Radio 2 thing which I think involved a bus being named after Jonathan Ross, for some reason. He'd checked into the Mal Maison and headed out for a drink at my bar.
I thought I'd better head back to Leeds and be a proper host so I drove over - I'd have to get my quiet night another time. A long and highly entertaining night ensued. On Saturday I looked forward to relaxing and getting some sleep... till my phone went in the early evening. It was snooker player Paul Hunter's widow Lindsey who
was hitting town with Chris Moyles' sidekick Gay Aled.
The pair were on Celebrity Scissorhands together and are good pals now. Well, I had to join them. I got on really well with Aled and learned all sorts about other celebs.
They were telling me how Steve Strange, also on the hairdressing reality show, was very, very strange in real life, how he cut a woman's ear while doing her hair, and how he insisted on picking his own big hit Fade To Grey to accompany an end-of-series fashion show. It was a hoot and we were out till 5am.
It turned out Chris Moyles was in town too, I knew he was off to see Jimmy Carr at the Grand Theatre so I went along to do some photos. He wasn't just there to enjoy the show, though, he got up on stage and made a few quips himself - and was markedly funnier than Jimmy.
I texted Alan saying: ''Guess where I am?'' His response was: ''Get to the box office and tell them you made a mistake and thought you were coming to see Alan Carr.''
That was a perfect opening line to go and introduce myself to Jimmy after the show, I thought, so I knocked on his dressing room door. He was utterly, utterly cold as ice. ''Who are you?'' he asked.
''I write columns and take photos and own bars,'' I said. ''I just wanted to say hello and take a snap of you.''
He continued to act as if I was a dangerous terrorist. ''Well, I'm not sure about this," he said while I set up and took a couple of shots. ''Is that all right?'' he said, obviously meaning: ''Get out of my dressing room.'' Miserable thing.
Just then Chris Moyles and his entourage strode up to his door. ''Alright, Terry?'' said Chris, shaking my hand. ''It's all right Jimmy, we know Terry,'' he said. The pair of them posed for some pictures together but Jimmy still hardly cracked a smile. I don't think I've made a soulmate there.
Jimmy had a second show at 10pm and Chris and his gang, plus his publicist, were just leaving the venue so Chris invited me for a drink at their hotel, Mal Maison. We spent an hour chatting - about BBC people we both knew, about his early days at hospital radio. I gave him a DVD of my episode of Secret Millionaire and he said: ''You're a millionaire? No way!'' ''They don't just let anyone do this programme you know,'' I said.
Maybe next weekend I might get that quiet night but to be honest I love it when unexpected things happen!
From Secret Millionaire to I'm A Celebrity
I got so much recognition from being on Channel 4's Secret Millionnaire, I feel like I'm more famous than most of the z-listers on I'm A Celebrity - Get Me Out Of Here!
I've been watching it and I love it but the only person I recognise is Chirstopher Biggins. I'd absolutely love to do that programme and judging by the profiles of the participants I can't be too far down their list of possibilities.
I just can't see why they fail to draw in more famous people. It's a great opportunity to do something different and be plastered all over primetime TV for a couple of weeks, what more would most celebrities want?
I'm now a bona fide star of reality TV!
I’m now a bona fide TV star!
If you’ve made plans to go out on Wednesday night, cancel them NOW … or at least set your recordable DVD - not that I have a clue how mine works - for the TV programme of the year.
I might be over-egging this one but it’s only because I’m so excited about my reality TV debut, Secret Millionnaire, on Channel 4. The premise is that I go under cover, working for the minimum wage, and then at the end of it all, give £30,000 to the people I find most deserving and most in need of a few thousand quid.
It feels like ages ago I was packed off to Cornwall to work for the minimum wage for 10 days. It was actually back in June, and the experience of living in a caravan and doing difficult and exhausting work for basic pay has changed me forever.
I'm no stranger to being poor - I built my businesses up from nothing - but it made me think hard about quality of life, friends and family.
I arrived in Cornwall penniless, like any travelling job seeker, and took up residence in a caravan - scrounging tea bags and milk, and bread and butter from my neighbours on the site until I could earn some money - being filmed all the while.
First I got a job delivering meals on wheels, which I really liked - chatting to all my customers and hearing their stories. My first day’s pay was £36. I needed £20 to pay for my caravan which left me a few quid to buy spuds and baked beans for tea. It’s a good job I’m not a drinker because my wages wouldn’t have gone very far in the pub.
My next job was in a nursing home, caring for elderly people. It was hard, physical work but as you know I’m a people person so I loved getting to know the residents. It made me think about how the elderly get neglected in society and how many don't seem to have many friends around them in their final years.
Finally I had a stint in a chip shop peeling the potatoes and putting them through the slicing machine. Down in Cornwall I was horrified to find they put the fish in the tray first and the chips on top.
By the end of my adventure, I really liked my caravan, despite its rubbish cold shower. The programme crew had booked me a five-star hotel to celebrate the end of filming but I didn’t care, I just wanted to stay on the campsite with my new pals.
The experience made me decide to enjoy life, relax more, and make sure I appreciate my friends and family and spend more time with them. It’s a principle I’ve been sticking to since the summer and I’m really glad I’ve made that commitment.
I’ve also started going to the gym with a personal trainer, my shirts are fastening nicely and I feel great - I want to stay fit and healthy for as long as I can in life. Seeing people who are frail or in poor health made me realise just how lucky I am.
Now me and a couple of the other millionaires are trying to set up some visits to schools to talk to children about how anyone can make it in life, no matter what your background or your skills. I’ll tell you more about that when it all gets under way!
When all the neighbours knew each other
I gave an interview the other day to a journalist working for a new magazine aimed at housing professionals who work at councils and housing associations.
They wanted inspirational stories from people who grew up on social estates and landed on me. I was only too happy to help.
I grew up on the Wyther estate in Bramley, Leeds, and I was surprised, when I started talking about it, how many good things I had to say about those days.
My family lived in Raynville Crescent and I knew absolutely everyone on the street, I can still reel off their names and their house numbers.
The reporter wanted to know, was there a lot of crime? Well, no, there wasn’t because no-one had anything to pinch. We didn’t all have houses full of huge plasma screen TVs and expensive computer equipment back in those days.
Our house was the scruffiest in the street, I was always embarrassed to bring my friends round and no-one believes me when I say we were so poor we went without electricity for two years.
Though I don’t want to sound ‘oh, it was terrible for me’, I remember we used to pay our next door neighbour £5 to run a power cable from their house to ours. It shows how different times were.
The whole area has been done up now but our old house is still standing and it doesn’t look much different.
I’ve never lived anywhere else where I got to know everyone like that - I can’t even remember who lived around us at half the addresses we’ve been at. It’s only in the last seven years or so that Michael and I have had money so we really appreciate what that brings - though I honestly don’t think I’d have too much of a problem moving back to an estate tomorrow!
Secrets & Lights! It's rising star Richard
Secrets & Lights! It's rising star Richard
Well my young friend Richard Fleeshman, the Coronation Street star, takes a giant leap in his quest to be a top pop star with his first single released today.
I have to say I like it - very catchy, and he wrote it himself. It's called Coming Down but it should really be called Going Up because that's where this talented 18-year-old is headed.
I caught up with him last week when he sang it at the switch-on of Bradford's festive lights in Centenary Square.
Richard did his best to give the event a glitzy edge but it all seemed a bit low key and they had trouble with their big prop during the countdown, a huge champagne bottle that was supposed to fizz into life.
The top kept falling off and Richard did his best to mend it. When it finally did go off like it was supposed to, it was little more than a big party popper. It didn't help proceedings that his Corrie co-actor Antony Cotton, who was billed to appear, didn't turn up.
He'd cited a "last minute commitment" that he had to attend to but no matter because Andy Whyment - that's Kirk in Corrie to you - came along instead and he was lots of fun, a lovely guy. He's just recently married his girlfriend and everything's going well for him.
"Is this the best Christmas light switch-on you've ever done?" I asked him. "Yes, definitely," he said. "Which others have you appeared at?" I asked. "Oh, just the ones in our house," he said. Very amusing!
You might remember that Richard, whose mum is ex Brookside actress Sue Jenkins, wowed millions of viewers on Soapstar Superstar. He was bombarded with contract offers in the aftermath but he was determined to bide his time and be a pop star in his own right.
He didn't want to be sucked in to a treadmill of performing cover versions and good on him for standing his ground and staying true to his ambitions. I didn't ask him if he was still with Emmerdale actress Roxanne Pallett - I haven't seen them together in the press for a while.
Richard really astonished all his girl fans, suddenly transforming into this handsome young man after playing moody eyeliner-wearing goth, Craig Harris, for so long, and even won a sexiest soap star award.
Part of that charm was his carefully styled and straightened chestnut-brown hair ... which he's now got in a strange curly style. I was dying to offer him a bit of fashion advice but I bottled it!
Richard, if you read this, get your straighteners back out. Your pop superstardom may depend on them!
We're not so Secret Millionnaires any more
I went to a party in Nottingham, hosted by my Secret Millionnaire co-star Chek White. We both feature in separate episodes in the Channel 4 series - watch out for me on TV on November 28. I'll tell you the full tale next week.
Anyway, Chek, who's made it big buying and selling property, held a huge bash with a screening to celebrate his involvement. He's great, very jolly and friendly, I really like him.
The party was in a big hall, like a Victorian theatre. I took my personal trainer, Gary, along and we both had a great time. There was a hog roast but sadly no free bar! There were some very, very expensive cars in the car park and we met lots of well-connected people but no celebrities to tell you about!
Peter's expensive lifestyle
I took Peter Grant, the super-smooth crooner, down to my bar, Fibre, for a drink after his sell-out show at Leeds City Varieties.
He's a true professional, the day before he was so ill with flu, he was on the brink of cancelling the gig but he soldiered on anyway - and you'd never have known it. What a performer!
Peter is from Leeds but has now moved to London, where he's busy meeting and greeting, wining and dining, every night. He confided that socialising down there is costing him a fortune - and he's a clean-living lad so it's not as if he's quaffing lakes of booze.
At least he knows he'll always get a drink on me when he's in Yorkshire. If you don't already own his album, Traditional, you should check it out - it's quietly becoming a classic!
I met the two Mels but Geri's still my favourite
I met the two Mels but Geri's still my favourite
Firmly on my list of things to do at the moment is the task of securing a photographer's pass for one of the London Spice Girls shows ... which is proving to be easier said than done.
It seems the world and his dog are all scrambling for a place in the snappers' pit, to capture the fab five in all their thirty-something glory.
I was always quite a fan of the Spice Girls - well, wasn't everyone? - though I have to say I never bought in to the whole Girl Power thing. It seemed far too much of a marketing ploy even on their first crest of success.
And sadly I never went to see them live, though I've seen Mel C a couple of times since they split at Party In The Park events at Leeds and Bradford. I went to say hello to her in her trailer at one of those and for such a big star she had no ego at all.
In fact she seemed nervy as if uncomfortable that she wasn't surrounded by all her old mates. Sporty was probably the most talented and she's certainly established herself with more credibility than her former bandmates - and apparently she was the last one to say yes to the reunion.
A model diplomat, she's been busy telling the press that they wanted to 'enjoy' each other again - yeah, right - and 'do it for our fans', though she's admitted she'll be cringing when she has to launch into: "AAAAhhhhhh tell me what you want, what you really, really want!!!" for Wannabe.
As well as Mel C, I've also met Mel B at a book signing at Leeds. She'd brought her mum along who's a lovely cuddly blonde lady. Mel B wasn't Scary at all - she was thoroughly nice, grinning from ear to ear.
She's had a hard time with one thing and another but her feet are firmly on the ground and she doesn't take herself too seriously. I loved seeing her laughing along with Bo Selecta when she made a guest appearance on the show. That puppet is pretty harsh but she sees the funny side, which is brilliant.
I've never seen Mel B around Leeds - well, she lives in America now anyway - but her sister used to be a familiar face. She worked at a nice deli-type sandwich shop on Kirkstall Road and I used to see her every day when I called in for butties. It was a nice place - the sort of shop you'd go to buy a sundried tomato, feta and rocket on foccacia rather than a bacon and egg bap with brown sauce.
Having met both Mels, though, Geri is definitely still my favourite Spice Girl. I would love to meet her.
I don't like confirming to stereotypes but she's definitely the gay man's choice - she was and maybe still is a big pal of George Michael, her music's the boldest and most bombastic and she's usually surrounded by very glamorous boy dancers - when she's not swanning around London with her camply-named daughter Bluebell Madonna. She's a perfect icon!
I'm counting down the days till they hit that stage together again!
Can Jacko ever fight back?
I don't think I'll ever cease to be amazed by the dramatic twists that Michael Jackson's life takes.
I reflected on this as I watched The Truth About Michael Jackson on Channel 4. Despite the fact that he was found not guilty of all his trial charges, public opinion is such that he probably wouldn't be any less popular if he had been convicted.
It seems the whole process and surrounding events have wiped that showbiz gloss and glitter away for good and I feel sorry for him - I can't see how he'll ever reclaim his crown as king of pop.
In the documentary I was particularly interested to hear stories from his former manager who claimed stories like the famous one about Jacko sleeping in an oxygen tank, and another about him sharing his home with Bubbles the chimp, were just fabrications made up and releasd to the Press by the singer himself - just for fun, and because controlling the media made him feel powerful.
Now the big speculation is that he's going to be a mentor on X-Factor - that would be brilliant. He says he wants to rebuild his singing career but times have changed so much, the music industry is totally different than it was when MJ was a superstar.
X-Factor is my favourite programme so I'd be delighted to see Michael make a guest appearance - or perhaps it's one of his red herring stories?
Everyone loves a freebie
You know those odd and delightful occasions when you go to a party or a launch night and you get a goodie bag - containing a couple of perfume samples and some money-off vouchers for hairdressers if you're lucky?
Well apparently the A-listers who attend things like the MTV awards walk away with unbelievably lavish goodie bags laden with all sorts of pricey clobber from top-grade toiletries to gadgets and accessories. It's as if they've won a trolley dash at Harvey Nicks.
You'd think the super-rich wouldn't be bothered about such freeloading but the truth is, everyone loves a little gratis gift, no matter how much cash they have to flash.
I've always adored getting free stuff - fancy foods, the latest drinks, CDs, DVDs - I rarely get round to eating, drinking, listening to or watching this stuff, I just like receiving it, opening the Jiffy bags at the office. Ever since I was a kid I've liked collecting things, playing shop. It's an instinct that I don't believe will ever leave me.
The best freebie I've ever had, aside from holidays and an electric scooter (honestly!) was liposuction! What should I try to blag next, I wonder?
Revealed: Russell's inspiration
I read a newspaper interview with one of my favourite TV writers Russell T Davies in which he gave exclusive details on a new show he's planning ...
He's best-known as executive producer of Doctor Who but back in the mid-1990s he also brought us the groundbreaking gay drama Queer As Folk.
Now it seems he's bored of daleks and time travel - he's developing a BBC drama series about fortysomething gay men.
The corporation has confirmed he is indeed working on script ideas for the project he'll oversee when he takes a break from Doctor Who in 2009.
"It's going to be about fortysomething gay men and how jealous they are of gay teenagers," Russell said in an interview with the Guardian. "I've been longing to write something for adults."
In the interview, Russell said that the inspiration for the new drama is a friend, a former Mr Gay UK, who split up from his boyfriend.
"He asked me: 'Why are so many gay men so glad we split up?' That remark's stayed with me for six years. I think there's a self-punishing streak in that gladness and I want to explore it."
I thought, I bet I know which former Mr Gay UK he's talking about. So I put in a call to Carl Austin who won the competition I organise in 2001. Carl was great, full of life and a real role model.
He'd been kicked out of the RAF for being gay before homosexuality was tolerated in the armed forces and now he's very successful and runs a promotions company in his native Manchester, called Oz.
"Do you know Russell T Davies?" I asked him. "Oh yes, very well," said Carl. He's been a house guest of Russell, a fellow Mancunian, at his home in Cardiff where he does all his Doctor Who writing.
"Have you ever talked about relationships with him?" I asked, every bit the inquisitive journalist. "Yes I think so - but not for ages."
Well, whether he likes it or not he'll soon be seeing himself dramatised - or at least an element of him! I for one can't wait to tune in.
Russell is a real engima, I've met him a couple of times at parties. He's always pleasant and polite but he's perpetually aloof as if lost in deep thought. It seems he's always first - or among the first - to leave a party.
It's all part of his mystery, is he going on somewhere more interesting? Or is he racing home to tap out more magical stuff on his laptop? We don't know ...
If the whole gay jealousy theme does see the light of day, it'll be interesting because it's a definite phenomenon. Not just jealousy from other homosexuals but odd reactions from your straight friends and associates too.
I reckon plenty of people who don't think of themselves as homophobic don't see two men as having a "real" life partnership, and are sort of relieved when you split up because it confirms that it wasn't a "proper" relationship. Does that sound like you? I hope not!
Doctor Who has loads of gay fans - a guy I know has a lifesize dalek in his living room - so they'll be gutted with the news that Russell T doesn't intend to carry on with it forever.
"I wouldn't want to do series seven," he told the Observer in March. "There are other things I want to do."
Not that this bothers me, I've never been remotely interested by the Tardis, or cybermen or even cute little K-9. A big gay drama is infinitely more likely to get me to settle in front of the TV.
Examiner leads the way
Ever wondered where the tabloids get all their gossip from? Well the Daily Star nicks its news from the Examiner!
Remember the column a couple of weeks ago in which I talked about prospective princess Chelsy Davy being spotted in my Leeds nightclub, Mission?
Well, the story appeared in the Daily Star a few days later - and they must have been confident that the Examiner had its facts right as no-one asked me to tell the tale first-hand. Don't forget where you read it first!
Are bonfires endangered?
Make the most of your local bonfire this year - I reckon they'll soon be on the way out. Well, they're totally un-environmental, aren't they?
I've been feeling really guilty as we've built up ours at home, using old pallets that really could and should be recycled.
Someone told me they're actually already banned in Australia - so that lovely ritual of burning a guy while you and your mates stand around in the fireglow, scoffing bonfire toffee and parkin, could be a distant memory in a few years.
Essence of Petula
One of the very best shows I've been to see recently was Petula Clark at the Grand Theatre, Leeds. Her voice was so beautiful and her accompanying orchestra sounded fantastic.
You could hear a pin drop as she recounted fascinating stories of her life, like the time she was full of butterfies before dancing with Fred Astaire - who, it turned out, had been equally on tenterhooks about the prospect of partnering Petula.
I met her once at gay pride in Brighton, I know how Fred felt as I too was shaking with nerves before I said hello. She never asked me for a dance, though!
Apology accepted, Jason
Apology accepted, Jason
I met Jason Donovon again, signing his new book at Asda House. I came up with my camera and he said: "I know you!", wagging a finger. I said: "Well I won't tell you where from ..."
"I know where from!" he said, chuckling "I read your newspaper column"
He was really rude and grumpy the last time I saw him at the Party in the Park at Leeds on a cold, wet summer day, paddling round in the mud. I told Examiner readers all about this in a column that featured a picture of him looking thoroughly bemused as he tried to smile convincingly for the camera.
Then I emailed a copy to him with my best wishes. "I am soooo sorry," he said as he scribbled his name in the front of his book for Asda staff. "I was in a really bad mood that day, everything went wrong!" Not only had he waited around for hours to perform - I didn't ask why on earth he'd turned up so early - but then when it was his turn onstage, the sound system wouldn't work properly.
Never mind, I forgive him. But I think he should go a bit steadier on the Botox. He was looking, how shall I say it? Airbrushed.
He's upset Kylie, apparenltly, with some of the stuff he's said in his book - which is ironic considering he hates being
asked about his famous former love and Neighbours co-star.
I remember one press conference he did when he performed at Gay Pride in Gran Canaria at which a press officer hurtled around beforehand, insisting: "No-one should ask him anything about Kylie!" So how come he's so keen to spill the beans now?
I've seen Kylie a couple of times at things like Pride in London, and she's every bit as dainty and delightful in real life as you'd expect her to be.
And I'm a huge, huge fan of her sister. I like to think of myself as a talent spotter, and Dannii Minogue is on fire! Her profile
on X-Factor has really kickstarted her career - I think she's gonna be massive. She looks amazing and her singing is stunning.
I continue to be glued to X-Factor but it's clear it's not a foregone conclusion any more that the winners will get a great career on the back of it. Having said that, Ray Quinn seems to be doing ok. I took my mum to see him as a surprise - we went backstage at St George's Hall.
She particularly likes his Elvis routine and so did a lot of other, older ladies - the place was packed out with mums and grannies. The press have been slating him and Louis Walsh reckons he's a "one trick pony' who can only do swing. Well, what's wrong with "only doing" swing? Good luck to him!
Me, the unlikely rugby fan
I still don't know quite how I became a dedicated follower of the Leeds Rhinos but somehow, over the course of a season, it happened ...
It all started when I was asked to photograph the lads on and off the pitch with a view to putting together a glossy coffee table book.
I stuck with them all season and my sports photography got better and better as I badgered fellow photographers on the touchlines to share their secrets of apertures and shutter speeds.
The players became good friends as I got to know them, and this whole new world opened up in front of me.
The result was that I cancelled a trip to Brazil just so I could catch the Engage Cup final against St Helens at Old Trafford, which of course the mighty Rhinos won, making them Superleague Champions.
It was clear I was a proper devotee when I realised I'd rather scrap a week of sun and sea in South America for the sake of a sports game. I hated sport at school, I always used to try to get notes off PE from my mum, and that sort of set the tone for the rest of my life. But once you learn a bit about rugby, you seem to get drawn in.
Where football's aggressive and intense, rugby seems friendlier and more sportsmanlike. The games are fast-paced and exciting, the fans are colourful and full of enthusiasm. How could you not fall in love with a sport like that?
Now I'm searching for a publisher so I can put it all in to a book - I want proceeds to go to the Rugby Football Foundation which promotes and funds rugby in schools. I have a couple of irons in the fire, so watch this space.
Sophistication ... and Carol Vorderman
Alan Carr, the comedian, told me a funny story about when he was in Miami with his Friday Night Project co-star Justin Lee Collins. They were apparently relaxing by their pool at a very trendy hotel when someone spotted them and "papped" them.
The pictures ended up in the hands of the British press and Alan got a phonecall from a journalist. He was really chuffed.
"Ooh, do we look glamorous?!" he asked. "Well," said the reporter, "Justin's sort of slumped forward and you're lying there
doing wordsearches in a Puzzler magazine with Carol Vorderman on the front."
"But I want to look cool and sophisticated with my mojito," protested Alan. "Is there at least the posh hotel in the shot?" "No,"
came the answer, "Just the Puzzler, and Justin."
Moyles - now even more mellow and mild
Moyles - now even more mellow and mild
I continue to be stunned by the change in motormouth DJ Chris Moyles. The bragging and laddish self-proclaimed 'saviour of Radio 1' has matured in to a much more thoughtful and considered chap.
Regular readers will know of mine and Chris's run-ins in the past - we know each other from way back and a year or so ago, we didn't see eye to eye at all.
I was cross with him because he'd been dismissive and rude to me when our paths had crossed at some do or other - he pulled a schoolboy face of disgust when I mentioned that Michael and I had our civil partnership.
Meanwhile, he was annoyed that I'd badmouthed him a bit in this column, calling him aggressively heterosexual and homophobic after his ill-advised use of the word 'gay' on air to mean 'rubbish' or 'lame'.
Anyway, we had a chat about it all and cleared the air and we're getting on much better. I greeted him at a book signing he was doing at Waterstone's in his hometown of Leeds - his new one's selling very, very well - and there were queues of fans right around the block.
The shop said this event and the signing that Chris did for his first book have been their most packed appearances ever, which shows just what a big name he is. For the record, he told me that he wrote his latest book 'more or less' by himself, and only brought a ghost writer in for the editing stage. How did he find the time? "Oh, I scribble notes constantly," he says.
We shook hands and he shocked me a bit wrapping his arms around me for a big hug. When it was time for a photo together he pressed his cheek against mine. Chris was staying at the plush hotel Mal Maison - I asked him why he wasn't kipping over at his mum's and he said: "Well, I do sometimes but it depends who's paying."
The night before, he told me, he'd had a drink in the hotel bar with his old friend Ricky from the Kaiser Chiefs, but I got the impression it was quite a quiet one - they weren't painting the town red.
I asked him if he was going to switch on the Leeds Christmas lights like he did the year before last but he said they hadn't asked him - yet. And, bless him, he asked how my civil partnership was going. "Very well!" I assured him.
I've seen a massive, massive change in him. He used to be so rude and aggressive. At the signing, he kissed a transsexual fan on the cheek like he'd thought nothing of it - he'd have never done that in the past.
He used to talk at people. Now he's pleasant, he listens to you, he remembers what you tell him. I wonder if he's reaslised the benefit of being nice?
Did I miss the boat with Richard?
I wish I'd known X-Factor's Richard Wilkinson had such a fantastic voice during the two years he worked for me at my bar, Fibre. If I'd sussed out his showbiz potential I would have arranged for him to sing there every night.
Perhaps I ought to audition all of my bar staff, just in case there's an untapped talent waiting to be discovered?
I love X-Factor, I find it really emotional, hearing people's stories - I often find myself crying in front of the TV. Anyone who's been watching will realise that Richard was kicked out of the solo running, but he'll appear in the final as part of a boy band. Simon Cowell told him that he reminded him of Will Young - which is praise indeed!
Richard was in Fibre the other week and asked me if he could have his old job back, if it doesn't work out at the final. How feet-on-the-ground is that?!
Me in make-up for the first time ever
I'll be appearing in a reality TV show soon - I'll tell you more nearer the time - and I went to London last week for a photoshoot so that the programme makers have nice publicity shots of the participants.
I love to catch the train to London - I hate driving there - but traffic meant I missed my 8am train and didn't manage to board till 9.45am. In the rush to get ready, neither did I remember to bring my selection of outfits, as directed by the film company.
My range was 'jacket on' and 'jacket off' but thankfully they didn't seem to mind too much. By the time I arrived, fashionably late, it was lunchtime and all the other participants had been in for their photos.
I found some of them a bit loud and 'look at me' and didn't bother competing for attention as I happily tucked into the organic berries and posh sandwiches provided at the exclusive South Bank studio furnished with artfully dishevelled old furniture.
Despite having been on TV and invovled in photoshoots quite a few times, I've never been made up before - apart from when my mum's bought me something lovely for Christmas, ho ho! So it was quite amusing being buffed up to look presentable by a make-up artist - though I wasn't quite as orange as my friend Dale Winton.
I liked my new perfect skin tone so much that I kept it in place all the way home on the train. I'm thinking of employing a make-up artist full-time now!
So how did I become a comedian's guinea pig?
So how did I become a comedian's guinea pig?
I had a great laugh with my friend the comedian Alan Carr when he dropped in to Halifax Victoria Theatre to do a show.
I greeted him in his dressing room beforehand with a lovely limited-edition bottle of vodka decorated with little mirrors like a disco ball.
"Ooh, what's this?!" said Alan. "It's vodka? I thought it was something from Ann Summers!"
That sort of set the tone for the whole get together. He reads my Examiner column every week - I always make sure I email it to him so he can see it wherever he is in the country, or abroad - and he's always on the lookout for a bit about himself in there.
As we were chatting, he encouraged me to set my tape recorder going - sending me back to the car to fetch it - and practically everything he divulged, he said: "Make sure you put that in your column!" or "Don't put that in your column, whatever you do!"
He had some new jokes that he'd never tried on an audience before so he tested them out on me beforehand - I must have laughed enough because he went ahead and did them onstage.
One paricularly good one featured a dog and an unreasonable accusation, but I can't really repeat it in a family newspaper.
His dressing room was really dreary. Alan was sitting reading a biography - I can't remember whose - when I arrived, there was nothing but a chair and bare clothes rail in there, no flowers or big lightbulb-lined mirror, or anything like that.
It's a running joke that I always accuse him of looking scruffy, but that night he seemed particularly smart in a brown Diesel top and G-Star jeans.
"Is this my influence?" I asked him. "Yes, that's exactly it!" he said, holding Harvey Nicks and Selfridges carrier bags aloft.
He'd just had a day's shopping in Manchester and had picked out some nice new stuff.
Alan told me all sorts - notably that contrary to the rumours, he definitely isn't going to be the new Cilla Black on a relaunch of Blind Date, and that he is doing something very special with Kylie today (MONDAY) which you may or may not see on TV tonight, or in the papers tomorrow.
We had a laugh about a rumour on uTube that those distinctive gnashers aren't Alan's real teeth, and they're just falsies that he wears for comedy effect ... and I came away with an invitation to stay at his house in London - which will no doubt give me lots more to write about!
Outbid for an evening with Antony
I had a great time at a posh corporate dinner at the Royal Armouries to celebrate supermarket Asda's donation of £1.5m to Cancer Research. Gary Lineker, the ex footballer turned presenter, was there to host a charity auction to raise even more money for this worthy cause.
The place was full of Yorkshire business movers and shakers eager to spend big money on once-in-a-lifetime opportunities
going under the hammer. I'm renowned for flashing the cash when I want to, but even I was comprehensively outbid by fellow diners prepared to lavish much, much more.
I sat with Liz Green from Radio Leeds and Asda's head of press, who's called Ed, and Gary Lineker and his very gorgeous but very quiet girlfriend were seated just a couple of people away.
First, I decided to bid up to £3,000 for an amazing trip to Spain to stay in an amazing hotel, meet the Barcelona football team, travel with them on their bus and see a top match - I wanted it as a gift for my civil partner, Michael, but I wasn't prepared to spend the £12,000 this was finally auctioned for!
Antony Worrall Thompson the chef was there and he jumped up and offered to come round to a lucky bidder's house and cook for 10 people for an evening, on a date of their choice - I thought wow, that would be a brilliant Christmas dinner party, and steeled myself to bid up to £6,000. I was nowhere near though - someone shelled out £22,000.
Gary Lineker looked super-fit and had amazing skin, you can tell he's spent his life exercising and looking after himself.
We chatted about his beloved Leicester FC while his girlfriend nervously stayed out of the way of my camera.
It's just as well the auction drew such big money - I found out that Gary had been paid £26,000 to host the event. At first I thought: "That's a bit much for a charity do!" but then I thought, his presence had drawn in lots of extra guests and donations, so it was fair enough. Nice work if you can get it!
Good luck to Lindsey
I met snooker player Paul Hunter's widow Lindsey at a party the other night, and spoke to her on the phone during the
week afterwards. She's great, so brave, considering what she's been through, and she's now busy launching a TV career.
She's going on hairdressing challenge Celebrity Scissorhands and she's done some snooker commentary and presenting.
She's been really pleased to see tributes to her husband continue to roll in to my memorial website, Gone Too Soon. So
good luck to you, Lindsey, you deserve it!
Sharing a bed with Melinda Messenger
Sharing a bed with Melinda Messenger
Last week I talked about potential future princess Chelsy Davy turning up for a night out at my club, Mission. Well she hasn't been back - but another famous blonde called in ...
This time the celeb in question was former page three stunner Melinda Messenger who appeared, totally out of the blue, with her hubby and some gay friends.
She was in West Yorkshire to visit her Bradford-based mate and they were all out celebrating his birthday. The gang spent some time in the new VIP area of my bar, Fibre, before moving across the road to Mission.
We'd brought in a big bed as a prop for a Federation club night there - we love pulling wacky stunts to make sure we surprise the clubbers and get talked about, and this set-up was to encourage people to recline and get comfy and let one of our outrageous drag queens read them a bedtime story. Ahh!
So, me and Melinda shared the bed while we had a chat - I don't think her husband was too worried! She's lovely, she told me how much she loves Leeds and the shopping there and how she prefers it to London. She actually lives in Hastings.
I asked her: "Have you been spending a load of money at Harvey Nicks then?" and she said: "Nooo, I know how to spend money but my husband goes mad when I do!"
She wasn't interested in hiding away in the VIP area, she wanted to be out in the middle of the club, dancing. I had a dance with her too - I'm a rubbish dancer, I just shuffled my hips for about 12 seconds, so that I could tell my friends that I'd had a dance with her.
They stayed till 3am before they all piled back to Bradford. Just another strange and unexpected night!
Chopper for Ms Thurman
Feeling guilty about one too many of those twelve quid taxi rides home? Well that's nothing compared with what you could spend on getting from A to B.
A mate of mine is involved with VIP travel and let slip to me that Uma Thurman, the Hollywood actress, was inexplicably in Ripon - visiting friends. I'm reliably told - and wanted to get back to Essex.
So instead of jumping on a train or even having a car come to collect her, she blew a cool £5,500 on a helicopter ride ...
Careful with that chocolate
Chocolate can be dangerous stuff ... I was larking about in the car with Mark the photographer, who works for me, trying to crack open a Terry's Chocolate Orange that someone had bought for me.
To make Mark - the driver - laugh, I shouted: "It's not Terry's, its mine!" like Dawn French used to do on the advert, before banging it down hard on the dash, to break it open.
Unfortunately the impact of the rock-hard confectionery caused the passenger airbag to explode into action - I jumped out of my skin! Needless to say it didn't put me off scoffing a few segments. Well, I needed it to get over the shock.
Still waiting for a one-to-one with Chelsy
Still waiting for a one-to-one with Chelsy
Paparazzi in West Yorkshire used to be few and far between - I was absolutely amazed to be 'papped' last year when I was out on the town with the comedian Alan Carr - but now Leeds is crawling with celebrity snappers.
They're all of course on the hunt for Prince Harry's girlfriend Chelsy Davy, the potential future princess, who's now studying at Leeds University. She's been in the papers striding across the campus, all blonde hair and sunglasses, instead of the usual pictures of her falling out of Mayfair's plushest nightspots.
The 21-year-old Zimbabwean is a mega-keen clubber and I can exclusively reveal that one of the first venues she tried out in Leeds was my very own club Mission on Lower Briggate.
She came in two or three months ago - apparently, believe it or not, with Prince William's girlfriend Kate Middleton - on a Friday night.
My staff told me the pair and their mates were surrounded by six burly security guys who flashed military ID and wanted to know where all the exits were. There were more guards in a car outside, on hand to whisk them away later.
The club manager. Adam, got straight on to me to let me know who was in the club but I hardly believed them - why would Chelsy be in Leeds? That was before everyone knew she'd be studying here.
They'd been sitting and chatting in the annexe, which is a bit odd in itself because Fridays - not our greatest night of the week - at that time were called Vibe Alite, and it was a hardcore rave night.
I was told third-hand that Prince Edward was in Yorkshire on a function and wanted to come down and meet the girls but security warned him off, saying the banging tunes might not be to his taste!
I had a scout round the busy club but I couldn't see them - perhaps I'd just missed them. Anyway, I'm still waiting for my one to one with Chelsy. Surely we'll run in to each other some time soon? If I do, Examiner readers will be the first to hear about it!
I read in the paper that reporters from national papers are renting flats and houses in Headingley in the hope of spotting Chelsy, with or without her prince. So it looks like there's a queue of people who'd like to meet her.
The upshot is that even though there's been no sign of her at Mission since she's been a resident in our city, there are photographers out and about all the time on the off-chance. We've never felt so glamorous!
Nights in pink velvet
If Chelsy calls into our other venue, Fibre, on Lower Briggate, she'll find it fit for a princess cos we've just finished doing it out. Thursday was our big launch night - complete with eager paps outside, hoping that she might turn up!
The good thing about the smoking ban is that we've been able to run riot with amazing fabrics such as sofas in Cadbury's purple and shocking pink velvet, safe in the knowledge that they're not going to be covered in fag burns.
Neither will we have dirty streaks up the eye-wateringly expensive wallpaper we've invested in. Now all we need is a chewing gum ban. Gum, of course, is the other big decor menace for venues like ours.
We had an interior designer from Manchester on board for the transformation, but he basically agreed with whatever we suggested, meaning he couldn't be bothered - or we are brilliant designers with amazing eyes for interior excellence!
His name is Rio - and he's nabbed my mate's jacket
One of my business partners, Shaun, was delighted to spot a perfect Gucci jacket in Flannels in Leeds.
Unfortunately they didn't have it in his size.
A couple of phonecalls revealed that Selfridges in Manchester did indeed have one of the hard-to-get-hold-of £2,500 garments to fit him. So he excitedly jumped in his car and made his way over the Pennines.
When he got there, shamefaced staff barely dared to admit that the prized jacket had been sent over to the Leeds store as it had been baggsied by another customer... one Rio Ferdinand.
Shaun, understandably, was hopping mad that he'd been chasing around for nothing. He's still to calm down - or get his hands on that must-have jacket!
Face facts, I'm bored with MySpace
Remember a few weeks ago I couldn't get enough of talking about MySpace and all my hundreds of cyber mates?
Well guess what, I've discovered Facebook and I'm now spending less time on MySpace. Like everyone else up and down the country, it seems.
Facebook is awesome, it's a bit complicated when you first set everything up and then, bingo, it's all time-consuming and completely addictive.
I had to get in on this phenomenon after virtually everyone I met in bars, clubs and business meetings trilled: "Ooh, are you on Facebook? You've got to get on Facebook. Aren't you on Facebook yet? Oh, I'm on Facebook ..."
It was also irritating getting emails all the time from associates 'poking' you to get involved in the Facebook revolution. You can only get 'poked' so many times before you lose your cool!
So I joined up. Straight away I was getting 10 or 20 emails a day telling me who'd uploaded new photos and what so many of my fresh set of virtual friends was up to.
Sometimes I just feel staggered by technology. Like there's this thing
called Skype that gives you completely free phonecalls to anywhere in the
world, complete with a webcam.
You can just leave the line open for as long as you want while your mate in Brazil wanders round their flat making cups of coffee and leafing through the mail, just calling them back to the computer if you need them.
It's mad. I can't believe everyone's not on it. We're all on Skype at the
office now, calling each other at our desks. I'm getting on all my
colleagues' nerves by constantly saying: "Why doesn't the whole world know about this?"
Having said that I don't believe any of this virtual networking will ever
replace the real thing, face to face contact, a real life conversation. I
notice people I deal with are often bold and even bolshy on email or through Facebook or whatever, then when you meet them in real life they're shrinking violets with no confidence.
Stuff like this is very easy to hide behind and it's my opinion that young people are shyer than ever and as short as ever on social skills that you only learn through experience and a few more years.
All those hours online won't make you any less likely to chicken out of
saying hello to someone who intimidates you a tiny bit for fear of them
'snubbing' you in some way.
Facebook, of course, is also dangerous - Fresh readers, be wary of your new boss stumbling on photos of you blitzed and grinning with a traffic cone on your head that your mate's helpfully posted, complete with your name .
If I was your manager I'd probably just think it was highly amusing but if your boss is a straight-laced rising star in financial services, with a sense of humour bypass, they might not.
I love smokeless pubs
It's only a few short weeks since the smoking ban came in to force in our
pubs and clubs but what a difference it's made!
I absolutely love being out and about without the stink of smoke on my
clothes and the sting of it in my eyes. Good venues have outdoor smoking
areas which those lighting up don't seem to mind, and probably like because they offer different social possibilities - like a quiet little smokers' chat on a big rowdy night out, an excuse to gather in a huddle with someone you fancy.
Some clubs though, I heard, are charging people to get a 'pass out' to go
for a smoke on the pavement, which seems pretty shoddy behaviour.
Now the latest is that cigarettes are going to get horrible pictures of
smokers' diseases on their packets. Nasty though they'll be, I can't see
them being too much of a deterrent. Smokers don't seem to think about the
way they smell, their dirty teeth, their health, the possibility of a fatal illness .
Even that advert with the fat dripping from the end of the fags didn't seem to bother people I know. To me, that was perhaps the hardest-hitting advert I've ever seen, it looked so disgusting.
My mum stopped smoking overnight three years ago when she was told by
doctors how ill she was. People only seem to stop after they're told they're suffering from ill health - and not because smoking is a health risk.
I'm always on at my sister, a smoker, to give up. When she asks what I want for Christmas or my birthday, I say: "For you to give up smoking, that would be the best present I've ever had in my life." She really wants to give up but she finds it very difficult. I'll carry on encouraging her until she gets there. That's what families are for.
Stressed-out Dr Who lights up Blackpool
Let there be lights... and Laurence
I had a great time at the big switch-on of Blackpool's lights on Friday. David Tennant, aka Dr Who, was the main attraction.
But he couldn't have seemed ant more stressed out when he turned up to push the big red button. He was totally on edge when I sauntered onto the bus he was using as a mobile dressing room.
''Who's this?!'' he boomed to his people. ''I'm Terry George,'' I said. I explained I only wanted to take a picture for my Examiner column and he grudgingly calmed down and granted me a few snaps.
It must be difficult for him - literally everyone wanted to talk to him, get an autograph, say a few words to him. Security had to form a big circle to give him a big of breathing space.
What confounds this, I think, is his value as Dr Who on eBay - I imagine David Tennant's signature if worth a bit.
So I don't think it's all uncomplicated adoration he's faced with when people approach wanting him to sign stuff.
Anyway, he wasn't the only big name there. Laurence Lewellyn Bowen was in town for proceedings too. He'd designed a section of the lights this year, though I have to say I had a good look and they didn't look any more dazzling than they ordinarily do.
The other reason I was in Blackpool was for the grand final of Mr Gay UK, and he was supposed to be doing a live slot on BBC's The One Show on the sea front with some of our contestants.
He didn't show and thankfully Mr Gay UK 2006, Huddersfield's very own Mark Carter, stepped in to introduce the lads on camera - doing a sterling job!
So I quizzed Laurence about this. ''You were supposed to be on TV for Mr Gay UK, what happened?'' I said. ''Well that's what they asked me to do but I said no way,'' replied Laurence. ''Can you imagine me getting involved with Mr Gay UK? I'm not homophobic far from it - like Jonathan Ross says, I'm gay through and through until it comes to the sex. But I said no, thank you.''
He's so outrageously camp, I couldn't believe he'd be horrified if someone thought he was gay. ''I've got two kids,'' he boomed. ''And anyway, if someone thought I was gay I'd take it as a compliment. Gay men have very good taste, especially in furniture and design.''
We talked about the lights for a bit and I asked him whether he could decorate my Christmas tree this year. ''Yes, of course!'' he said. ''But how much would you charge?'' I asked. ''Oh, about £47,000!''
Gareth Gates was there too - he said hello and threw his arms around me. He's great. And Dale Winton invited me to London for dinner at his house again.
He said to me: ''How old are you?'' I told him 42. He said: ''Bloody hell you're looking good for your age!'' What a compliment! He's 52 but he doesn't look it.
I told him how nice and slim he looked and he said: ''Oh if I wasn't on TV I'd be 20 stone, I'm constantly dieting and constantly at the gym.'' I noticed he wasn't as orange as usual. ''I've eased off on the tan now, '' he said. ''I'm not bothering with all that any more.''
Good old Dale. ''Don't be a stranger!'' he said. ''Come round for dinner!'' That's one date that's definitely going in my diary.
Daniel the local hero
It was a home triumph in the Grand Final of Mr Gay UK 2007 at the Flamingo Club, Blackpool on Friday night.
The winner was Mr Blackpool, Daniel Broughton, aged 21.
And what a star! He appeared on stage in a cute cowboy costume and won roars of approval from the hundreds of revellers who'd turned out to see the 22 finalists from throughout the UK strut their stuff.
Earlier in the evening Daniel had been hotly favoured by a BBC judging panel including Michael Aspel, a former Miss World Judge, on BBC1's The One Show, broadcast live from Blackpool.
Celebrity couple Michelle Scott-Lee from Liberty X and her husband Andy Scott-Lee a former pop idol finalist were the fabulous hosts, The Sheilas - best known for the Sheila's Wheels ads - were the star turn and the celebrity judges included Shabaz from Big Brother, Hollyoaks star James Sutton and Soapstar Superstar's Leon Lopez.
Leeds Rhino Lee Smith and his girlfriend Verity Rushworth, the Emmerdale actress, were judges too.
So on the same night the Blackpool Illuminations were switched on for the 2007 season, a new face lit up the stage, and we said an emotional farewell to 2006 winner, PC Mark Carter. He's had an amazing year, and the future looks bright for Daniel too.
We all want our place in the sun
I'm in Morocco at the moment, where I go quite often but I'm really starting to feel like I hardly recognise Tangier, the
holiday haven I've known and loved for years.
Literally as I write this buildings are springing up all around me. They're going construction crazy. And it's all Europeans
like me who want a des res in the sun.
Now prices are higher in Spain and other hotspots, people are looking to Morocco to invest. And what's not to love?
Though it's in Africa, it's almost as handy as other ex-pat enclaves.
You can get cheap flights here, or if you prefer, a cheap flight to Spain and a cheap ferry across the water. There's exotic
food and colourful street life but home-style comforts too.
At the moment you can hardly head out for a mint tea without squeezing past hordes of prospective purchasers umming
and ahhing on building sites, clutching brochures. It feels like it's a free-for-all and builders just turn up and start digging
foundations wherever they fancy.
I sound like I disapprove but I don't see it as a bad thing, the more the merrier as far as I'm concerned. It's all boosting
Morocco's economy, which has to be good, too. If you want classy and unspoilt, there's still plenty of that in Morocco away
from the main centres.
I have property abroad, as do plenty of people - including a few of my friends, and it's a weird sensation to set out to spend
some time there.
Travelling's a drag, however convenient your abode is to get to, and you're sooo pleased to get there, as if to say: ''Ah,
home at last!'' You go to make a cup of your tea and your instinct is to unpack your filthy holiday clothes and stick them in
the wash, as if you've just got back to civilisation... till you remember you've only just arrived.
Then, instead of going out and about and enjoying yourself 24/7 you spend valuable time and effort wondering what that
wall would look like if it was painted terracotta, and tidying up the bathroom.
In hotels you leave your belongings strewn wherever you abandon them, but you wouldn't do that at home, would you?
The other big issue about having your own place abroad is, who do you invite to use it? You don't want to be a Billy-no-
mates, all on your own, but you don't necessarily want your whole extended family and the milkman there, too.
And what if all your friends are desperate for an invite... as long as you're safely chained to your desk at work in Leeds
that week? Oh, it's a social minefield.
And the whole point of an overseas pad is to relax and get away from it all!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alan Carr's been reading my column in the Examiner. Last week I talked at length about how the Friday Night Project
comedian would do a much better job as a prime time chat show host than Coronation Street's Antony Cotton.
Obviously not bothered about my obvious disdain for a fellow camp TV favourite, Alan emailed and thanked me for my
'lovely' comments.
Talking of camp TV favourites, I sometimes think that entertainment is being completely taken over by grinning, shiny-
suited gay hosts. It's definitely time I made my small screen debut, I am sure there must be room for one more!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I made the mistake of watching a bit of Crimewatch when I was alone in the house a few nights ago, before I came to
Tangier.
It's particularly unsettling if your home is open-plan and you can't shut the lounge door on armed robbers potentially about
to burst in.
I can't help thinking they've gone over the top with the drama they give it nowadays, all fashionably wobbly footage and
arty camera angles. I am waiting for them to add a rousing movie score, lots of CGI and exploding helicopters too.
Surprise success of Anthony's chat show
I'm in Morocco at the moment, where I go quite often but I'm really starting to feel like I hardly recognise Tangier, the holiday haven I've known and loved for years.
Literally as I write this buildings are springing up all around me. They're going construction crazy. And it's all Europeans like me who want a des res in the sun.
Now prices are higher in Spain and other hotspots, people are looking to Morocco to invest. And what's not to love?
Though it's in Africa, it's almost as handy as other ex-pat enclaves.
You can get cheap flights here, or if you prefer, a cheap flight to Spain and a cheap ferry across the water. There's exotic food and colourful street life but home-style comforts too.
At the moment you can hardly head out for a mint tea without squeezing past hordes of prospective purchasers umming and ahhing on building sites, clutching brochures. It feels like it's a free-for-all and builders just turn up and start digging foundations wherever they fancy.
I sound like I disapprove but I don't see it as a bad thing, the more the merrier as far as I'm concerned. It's all boosting Morocco's economy, which has to be good, too. If you want classy and unspoilt, there's still plenty of that in Morocco away from the main centres.
I have property abroad, as do plenty of people - including a few of my friends, and it's a weird sensation to set out to spend some time there.
Travelling's a drag, however convenient your abode is to get to, and you're sooo pleased to get there, as if to say: ''Ah, home at last!'' You go to make a cup of your tea and your instinct is to unpack your filthy holiday clothes and stick them in the wash, as if you've just got back to civilisation... till you remember you've only just arrived.
Then, instead of going out and about and enjoying yourself 24/7 you spend valuable time and effort wondering what that wall would look like if it was painted terracotta, and tidying up the bathroom.
In hotels you leave your belongings strewn wherever you abandon them, but you wouldn't do that at home, would you?
The other big issue about having your own place abroad is, who do you invite to use it? You don't want to be a Billy-no-mates, all on your own, but you don't necessarily want your whole extended family and the milkman there, too.
And what if all your friends are desperate for an invite... as long as you're safely chained to your desk at work in Leeds that week? Oh, it's a social minefield.
And the whole point of an overseas pad is to relax and get away from it all!
Alan Carr's been reading my column in the Examiner. Last week I talked at length about how the Friday Night Project comedian would do a much better job as a prime time chat show host than Coronation Street's Antony Cotton.
Obviously not bothered about my obvious disdain for a fellow camp TV favourite, Alan emailed and thanked me for my 'lovely' comments.
Talking of camp TV favourites, I sometimes think that entertainment is being completely taken over by grinning, shiny-suited gay hosts. It's definitely time I made my small screen debut, I am sure there must be room for one more!
I made the mistake of watching a bit of Crimewatch when I was alone in the house a few nights ago, before I came to Tangier.
It's particularly unsettling if your home is open-plan and you can't shut the lounge door on armed robbers potentially about to burst in.
I can't help thinking they've gone over the top with the drama they give it nowadays, all fashionably wobbly footage and party camera angles. I am waiting for them to add a rousing movie score, lots of CGI and exploding helicopters too.