[What follows are further ramblings from a drunk-but-sobering-up mind. Any offense to certain comedians is purely unintentional (but understandably likely)]
We were in the Disco, Mikey and I, grooving along with Henry Tonks's madcap party crew (including some familiar faces from the Howells gang), when we spotted Danni and Sarah again, sitting and chilling by the wayside, like a pair of particularly watchful sparrows on a washing line (poetic? Nash says: yes). We moseyed on up to them and asked them what's the dilly-oh, to be battered with the frantic reply of "We met Smithy from Gavin and Stacey!". Mikey and I decided this was worth a trip to the Iceroom, and so it began.
He wasn't hard to spot, a pretty hefty guy grooving along to whatever-balls-was-playing-at-that-moment. All by himself. Which was weird, I reckoned; surely he'd have a massive entourage of cool cats to hang with him all night long. Sure, every minute he'd be spotted by a new group of drunken kids and be drawn into a photo opportunity, but you could see his face palpably drop every time it happened. "I tried to get out, but they pulled me back in..."
To be perfectly fair, he wasn't having a hard time getting the attention of the chicks (or, to his dismay, the guys, who constantly jumped on him, then ran away laughing like small children). Pulled like a mofo, he did. Power to him I guess (Note: while normally I'm totally for treating women like, y'know, people, in certain circumstances it's worth just telling it like it is. Guys are like this, y'see.)
He strikes me as the quintessential guy-who-knows-everyone, the one who's friends with them all, but doesn't throw his manhood around like DWP benefits. I know a guy who was known and loved by everyone in Year 13, but didn't get intimate 'til Uni kicked off (although whether this is by choice or through relentless failures is beyond my knowledge). Hell, I'm making reckless assupmtions and generalisations throughout, so take what I say with a dash of salt and a sympathetic ear.
Went to Wikipedia, found this: "James also appears in milk adverts in the Czech Republic and also is seen sitting in a deckchair in an advert in Saudi Arabia." Awesome.
I tried to figure out a way to qualitively say "I've met James Corden" without falling into hug-him-photograph-him mode. I went over, said "I imagine you're getting a lot of attention tonight"; he shrugged, "It happens"; I shook his hand. For a moment, I was totally Z-list friend-of-a-celebrity material. Then it was over. So I wrote this blog post to immortalise the whole thing.
My posts ramble when I drink. If you've got this far, go do something better with your time.
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