Was usurped from my seat on a school bus by cricketing c*kehead commentator Dermot Reeve so that he could sit next to my lovely classmate Lotta Flink (HK Olympic swimmer)
Stood next to Frank Skinner in the gents at Browns restaurant. He burped and I said “Urinal Rennie?”. He didn’t laugh. In fact totally ignored me.
Nearly walked into a confident, striding, corduroy suited Stephen Fry in Cambridge city centre outside M&S, just weeks after he returned having run away to Belgium in a moment of personal crisis.
A couple of years before, and less than 100 metres away, I nearly walked into a shuffling, eyes down, chin on chest Terry Waite in Cambridge city centre, outside Sainsbury, months after he returned from his captivity in Beirut.
Walked past Terry Venables at Luton Airport in early 2000s, and having realised how it was I called after him “Best we’ve ever had, Tel!” He had been on the same flight as the England u21s after an away fixture he’d attended. He clearly didn’t recognise me from the 1997 FA Cup Final, when he’d been sat in the row in front of me and my brother, with a young pre-teen lad who was fully dressed in Boro kit.
Was in a car that nearly ran over Eric Sykes, jaywalking across Nathan Road in Kowloon.
Was nearly bumped into by a well-oiled, cheery and conversational Phil Tufnell on the walkway under the Mound Stand after the crowds had left after the 2000th Test Match, at Lords.
Stood next to Ben Watt and Tracey Thorn at the bar in Leicester Poly SU, before seeing The Smiths for the first time.
Was flicking through racks of CDs in the Cambridge HMV (just yards away from where Terry Waite was probably still shuffling) stood next to the man formerly known as ‘the new Ian Botham’ aka Derek Pringle, who was doing the same and stacking up before flying out a couple of days later to cover the Ashes.
Walked past a car from which The Lord Lieutenant of Cambridgeshire Hugh Duberly, in full ceremonial regalia, was alighting. I’d seen him at a works do the week before.
I was providing my walking colleague with extensive and interesting details of our previous encounter, when they told me that I’d missed Prince Charles getting out of the other rear car door!
Was nearly run into by the wonderful Dame Kelly Holmes as she rushed out of a car, nr Trafalgar Square. I didn’t look to see if the Lord Lieutenant of Cambridgeshire (or anyone else important) was getting out of the other door.
Michael Dawson with his family, shopping in Cranstons Food Hall, Penrith. I thought he was the tall scouse Olympic swimmer Steve Parry.
Was shoulder to elbow with the tall Olympic rower James Cracknell amongst a busy throng of commuters getting off a train in St Neots. I always thought he was a pr*ck, but still struck up a conversation asking why he’d got off the train in a dull Cambridgeshire market town. Before he could answer his agent (or similar) greeted him and started to take him away. As I’d thought! pr*ck!
As I walked down the other side of the bridge there was a tap on my shoulder, I turned round and James Cracknell said “Sorry about that. They’ve picked me up for a book signing I’m doing in the Waterstones. I hate this sort of thing!”
Turns out I was the pr*ck!
