In Which I Take Part In An Interview That Never Happened
'So, Lez,' Eamonn began, leaning forward on the sofa while I tried to work out his BMI. 'This is the most romantic day of the year, but you claim being single is all fine and dandy. Yet you also claim that you've been seeing a famous rock star for the past few years. Now, could you enlighten our viewers, as I'm sure many will be intrigued as to what the real situation is.' I cocked one of my profoundly deaf ears towards him. 'Ay?' I distinctly heard Ruth give a deep sigh. What's her problem? Eamonn shifted his weight around on the sofa and began again. 'Okay, Lez. Can I ask you about a certain Scottish gentleman you've been dropping clues about in your columns for the longest time? There was a lot of speculation that he and his band asked young American actors in the eighties not to forget about him. Am I on the right lines?' I gave a light, airy laugh. 'I don't know what you're talking about.' I trilled. 'I've never done anything of the sort.' Eamonn cleared his throat. 'We've invited you on today so you could tell us why being a singleton is preferable to being in a . . .' 'How dare you call me a simpleton!' I gasped. 'I didn't come on here to be insulted!' Ruth looked nervously at Eamonn. I should think so too! I made a lot of effort for this show, carefully choosing my Steve McQueen Jacket, Vera Duckworth slacks and Jimmy Tarbuck shoes. I don't know why I even bothered! 'Lez, would it make things easier if I wrote the questions down?' Eamonn asked in desperation. I sneered down at Ruth's cheap black courts before playing my trump card. Sick of this Gestapoesque treatment, I held my palm towards Eamonn to expose the eye I'd drawn on it before the interview started. Well, what's good enough for David Blaine . . .