Wow, just slipped in and out of the i hundredth edition party last night. It was a good bash and loads of people wanted to talk to me. It seems that this very diary is being talked about as the reason we are now outselling the Commie daily that is The Guardian.
Everyone was asking why I wasn’t in the TV advert? I told them I was a bit too edgy for it and that I wasn’t offended. I couldn’t really be bothered to do the small talk thing as I had to meet Ben for a late dinner, but I think I’ve become something of a sexual fantasy object in the i offices. There was a queue of hotties waiting to have their photo taken with the Coops – a real case of too many chicks, too little time. I made my excuses and sped off to meet Ben, leaving behind howls of protest. Ben was sitting in a raised booth in this new brasserie he’s put lots of money into.
He thinks this means he can treat it as his personal boudoir. I’ve seen this happen before and it’s always a sure sign a restaurant is going to tank. Luckily, I wasn’t there as a business consultant, I was there to get loaded. Ben ordered bottle after bottle of Gosset, his current bubble of choice, and we were soon on our merry way to oblivion. I made the mistake of wandering back past the party on my way to the Groucho. I soon found myself inside and without a sober filter. I gave the editor some advice on what he should be doing next with the paper. I think he was impressed so expect some big changes soon… Cooper Out.