I got interviewed last week. It was my own fault, I wasn't looking where I was going. Listening to my own voice was enlightening - no, not enlightening, what's that other thing when your face goes all red? Finding out that from the other side of my face my voice sounds like a cross between trailer-trash and Princess Anne was a bit of a shock. To prepare yourselves, try saying "'oo you lookin' at, squire? You wanna punch inna mouf?" in a Cheltenham Ladies' College accent.
Anyway. I negotiated the interview without making too much of a plonker of myself, I think. Mostly thanks to the fragrant Stephanie who led me through the process without asking me any really hard questions like who was my favourite Doctor Who (Patrick Troughton, if you must know, but Matt Smith is coming up hard on the rails...oooerrr, missus, cold bath time, I think), or what is the square root of three. The hardest bit was when she asked me why my book was called Reversing over Liberace and for one, horrible and very long, minute I couldn't remember. I knew there was a good reason, but it escaped me. So (as you will know if you listen and you better had because I will be coming round to your house later with questions) there was a moment of confuffulation while I tried to bluff my way around the answer before my brain actually retrieved the lost information. But I think I got away with it by making the noise of a loud truck passing, stopping (I do particularly effective air-brakes) and then reversing, until I could remember. I then went on to impersonate a seal, a Massey Fergusson tractor and a spotted woodpecker.
I don't think they'll ask me back.
However. Onto the more important business. Anyone who has friended me on Facebook will know that I am currently in the throes of an obsession with Vince Cable, the LibDem Secretary of State for Business, Innovation and Skills. At least, that is what he tells people he is, but only I know his secret identity, as Vince Cable, Private Investigator. He's got the hat and the coat with the turned-up collar, and he calls women 'dames', and he speaks in an American accent and smokes cigars. Of these facts I am convinced, to the utter annoyance of everyone who swears that he is just a Member of Parliament, and any tendencies to impersonate Philip Marlowe are purely in my imagination.
This is not true, and I am working on proving it.
Vince Cable. Honestly.
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