sat in my mates flat on the Quayside in Newcastle, a particularly heavy weekend was just about over. He had rented out the flat to a film with Patsy Kensit in it as their green room, but could use it at the weekend.
Chatting to Scottish guy, I was worse for wear, a good 45 minutes of chatting to a point where he said – you have not idea who I am, do you?
No he was correct I didn’t.
Have you seen mission impossible 2?
Yes it was crap.
Right, well the final beach fight scene, that is me fighting tom cruise.
I pondered at this, looked at him again and said something along the lines of – nope, don’t remember you at all, do you want a toke?
and then realised that everybody in the room, my mates, his people were all listening to the conversation, and a slight feeling of paranoia kicked in and I went home.
I believe he was wearing a kilt, not sure if he had any diesel in his sporon on not.