Friday night started with the usual tales of previous exploits.
Vince was bursting. “You’ll never guess who he was,” he said. “Works in television: fantastic! He lists all the programmes he’s worked on and I’m thinking: Oh my God! And then when he tells me his name, it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven. You’ll never guess what series he wrote a book for.”
“Star Trek?” Phil deadpanned.
“Fuck off,” Vince retorted. “We talked loads, and he’s writing this new series. Set on Canal Street. Based on us. But after that comment, I’ll ask him to kill you off…”
Related posts:
- Unconventional Vince took a deep breath and burst through the door....
- The Cherub He had skin of gold. In all Stuart’s nights of...
- Post mortem “Well I think he captured us all really well,” Vince...
- Folk Off to America: An interview with Russell T. Davies Scott: The American-made version of Queer As Folk starts this...
- Mint statistics and a ’406 Not Acceptable’ error This blog is hosted on a Site5 server, and earlier...
