“Twatty Indie Band*? God, they were shit. I mean, really, really shit. Right up there with Toploader and the fucking Boo Radleys. I even hate them as much as I hate Coldplay and that’s saying something. Thank God Twatty Indie Band have crawled back into the circle of Hell they spawned from. I bet that lead singer twat is on JSA now” – Me, backstage at a performance the other night, unknowingly talking to the rhythm section of Twatty Indie Band.
*Name of band has been removed to protect me.
As social cock-ups go, that was a pretty big one even for me. Let me tell you a little story about how the evening had panned out before then: I was having a great time and the larger was free and fast flowing. Lethal combination as a) when I am pissed I will talk to everybody and b) when I drink I need lots of wee-wee trips, so I miss out on huge chunks of conversation every twenty minuets and then just throw myself back in at any random point with gusto, so when I re entered the room and heard the name ‘Twatty Indie Band’ I let rip.
Not realizing that two of the members were stood right in front of me.
Now let me tell you another thing about me: In these situations I turn into a parody of Basil Fawlty (if you are too young to know who I am talking about then PISS OFF), so as soon as the person I was with broke the awful silence by introducing the people she stood with as members of the band, my Basil personality took over.
“Oh, that Twatty Indie Band!” slured I, “Oh you are good! It’s that other lot I mean, you know, the one with the singer who looks like a Fraggle and shagged that girl out of Harry Potter”
“Nope. Still us.” Came the stoney faced reply of the drummer, or bass player, or guitarist – like I said, I am no fan.
I was so drunk that I couldn’t even lie convincingly that I meant another band.
The person who I was with then cut in with a frilly, “Oh, hahaha! She’s a comic, isn’t she great? I think that’s part of a new routine….um…anyway, I’ll make sure she buys one of your albums in the morning to say sorry!”
As she dragged me away, I couldn’t resist one last parting shot:
“Yeah, I think I’ve seen your CD’s in the bargain bin at Wilkos, so I’ll get two”.
“Honestly, this sort of shit gets published far too often – Have you read this one? I only scanned the back cover and wanted to vomit” – Me, at a book launch, unknowingly talking to the Author.
I have a great excuse for this one.
Of course, I didn’t recognise her as the author. She’s rather famous in a daytime TV sort of way and we are friends on Instagram, but I am so crap at recognizing people it’s bordering on a medical issue.
For example, I once had a very long conversation with a lovely chap during the interval of a play. When I returned to my friends, they were all like “OH. MY. GOD. I can’t believe you were talking to him! Did you ask him about Lord of the Rings?”.
Turns out, I’d been talking to Sir Ian McKellen about gardening. I didn’t know it was him. I thought he was just a jolly nice, old camp chap.
Anyway, so back to the book launch. The author didn’t help herself by trying to be funny. As I was stood perusing the back of her book, she sidled up to me and said “Lord knows how some people get a book deal, right?”
Now, read that back, picture it in your head and tell me what you would have said after a few drinks at a party where you didn’t know anyone.
The next morning, I went to send an apology over Instagram. Unsurprisingly, she had unfollowed me. A fucking shame really, as I really fancied the singer in her husband’s band and was hoping to get an introduction.
There are so, so many more, but to tell you the truth, this is just a taster as I needed to see if this sort of thing works, if it does, then we are go.