The Coopster has been invited to do Question Time on the BBC. I'm only telling you this because I said no. Much as I'd love to go on and bait the idiot crowd that attend, I'm away for the dates they suggested. I love watching those kind of shows over here, where they carefully select the audience so that there is a "fair" and representative balance. What a crock of shit. Life is not fair and balanced, and nor should your TV be.
Question Time always has a multicultural mix, with a big bunch of dorky students complete with scarves and acne who ask some question that they don't really understand but think makes them look clever. That's why I'd like to go on, to really lay into all these assholes, and hopefully have a go at one of the Cabinet while I'm about it. It's a toss-up as to who I'd like to trample on more – Ruth Kelly, who looks like she might have been in the queue outside the stage door in her youth waiting to ask Mr Dimbleby for a kiss; or David Miliband, who just needs a smack in the mouth.
Ben knows Miliband somehow, I think from university. Needless to say, they don't really get on. I've been to a couple of social events where Ben has been downing flaming sambucas with a couple of Sloane beauties while Miliband tries to hold the table with talk of dungeons and dragons or suchlike. There's no question, it's time for these ass-wipes to leave the building and let the Tories take over. "COME IN NUMBER COMMIE, YOUR TIME IS UP!!"
All talk everywhere about DC and his bicycling antics. Everybody misses the point. You've got to hate cyclists anyway – smug motherfuckers who get in everybody's way and shave their legs and grow beards. Let's face it, we know DC is not really a cyclist. He only does it on Wednesdays now to be filmed by the news before Prime Minister's Questions. He has to look green and all that shit. But nobody respects a cyclist – you'd never marry one, right ladies? I bet Johann Hari rides a bicycle. I loved the fact that DC showed his true colours by doing whatever he wanted and zooming through red lights and stuff. The only point in having a bicycle is to do things that you can't in a car, and to get places quicker. Otherwise, just pump up the stereo, crack open a brewster and let the car do the work.
Anyway, this global-warming crap is clearly about to be shown for what it is – it's freezing and we're past Easter, what the hell is that all about? Suddenly, we're all worrying about a new Ice Age. Confused? Join the queue.
Guess who I met this week. Jamie Oliver and his wife. She is doing something with Victoria's company, so we all went for drinks. Much to my surprise, I found myself unable to take my eyes off her – she's hot. She's kind of like Minnie Mouse in a G-string. I loved it and spent a happy hour chatting her ass off. Meanwhile, poor Victoria had to spend it with Oliver himself. It's quite difficult listening to him speak as you are constantly looking around at other people to see whether you're the only person who thinks that he's having a stroke. He talks through these weird fleshy lips, and doesn't have a huge amount to say for himself. He's like one of those self-taught people who learn a little about something and then go full- steam ahead without really understanding what's going on.
He was trying to tell Victoria off about the use of "blood" diamonds, but you could see that he had just seen the movie and not much more. He's not exactly a "reader". We all parted company quite quickly, with no plans to meet again. Or so I thought. It just shows how I don't get women at all. Victoria was totally smitten and couldn't stop talking about him and how "charismatic" he was, and how he really cared about stuff and he was so special. This is a little cockney with a big gold chain and bad highlights that Victoria would normally move away from in an elevator. TV does the weirdest things to people.
It was still early so we didn't get a cab but instead walked back to west London arm in arm – it was sort of romantic. I tried to persuade Victoria to let me have my way with her in Hyde Park, but she refused to climb the wall and the moment was gone. Shame, as nothing beats a bit of illicit outdoor action – even with your soon-to-be wife. We stopped in at the Electric for a nightcap, and there was hardly anybody there. Jamie Theakston and Dom Joly were hosting a table and beckoned us over, but I wasn't in the mood for dumb TV talk so we went upstairs. It was cool to be there with Victoria and not to see Pablo for once. (Maybe I'm growing up? I hope not.)
The next morning, I did my favourite thing. It was Any Questions on Radio 4 with Jonathan Dimbleby, the less-successful brother of David. They sound exactly alike and Jonathan gets really chippy when people ring up and call him David. I rang up and spent a good four minutes doing exactly that until he managed to cut me off. It's the little things in life... Cooper Out.Reuse content