I always thought I was shallower than the kiddy’s pool in Oompah Loompah land. I try being deep, philosophical and other enigmatic words that people who go to university for 3 years may describe themselves. Not me. University in that respect is the same, as I was shallow when I went in, and I am shallow as I left. I always thought my simple love for breasts, beer and big brother would remain forever, I would forever read tabloid “news” papers, and would never admit to any of these. Not that I would bullshit my way through MacBeth past Act 1, Scene 1 (which I can recite*), just that I would employ don’t ask, don’t tell philosophy.
But this weekend, my shallow self has something to be proud of.
Here’s the story I’ve told people. Basically, as I’ve previously said, I work in the same building as the Passport Service. Everybody needs a passport. Me, you, politicians.
I was walking to work one day, and I noticed a few camera’s accross the street poised accross the way. All of a sudden they started snapping. A woman rushed out of the passport office, brushed past me and into an awaiting cab.
Using my shallow memory, I immediately thought “Fuck me! That’s Kerry Katona! That bird who shagged that one from Westlife, slept in a jungle and whored herself out to Iceland“. Happy I’ve met a Z-List celebrity, I told anyone and everyone who wished to hear.
And that’s the story I told my mates. This is what really happened.
Everything happened up until that last bit. Basically, I thought nothing of it (though it was rude), but one of my work mates saw the whole incident, and caught upto me.
WM: You see who that was?R: No?
WM: That was Kerry Katona! That bird who shagged that one from Westlife, slept in a jungle and whored herself out to Iceland!
I impressed myself of my lack of shallowlility. I wonder if those pictures with me walking past somebody I’ve never heard of will make it into one of those celebrity mags. With the caption of “Kerry Katona gets a hole stared into her by some random person after pushing past him whilst leaving the passport office in Liverpool.”
Better yet: “Rhys Wynne, blogger extra-ordinaire, gives a random person nobody’s heard of a visual smackdown after he was nearly knocked to the floor by her….”
* When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won.
That will be ere the set of sun.
Where the place?
Upon the heath.
There to meet with Macbeth.