Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Shmoolio Foolio.

“You’re interviewing Aled Jones tomorrow aren’t you.” My editor type friend said to me at midnight. “Who? What? When?” I asked confused and suddenly worried.
“I told you this weeks ago!”
“Did you?”

I’m not convinced she did. I got up early the next day to listen to the Chris Moyles Show and do some research into Aled Jones. Within 12 hours I loved him. “Be there at 9.15” we were told. So we arrived early. 9 hit and I was told I would be interviewing let’s call him Shmoolio (so i don't get in trouble for defamation of character) as well. I knew nothing about him and we had no Google at our disposal. We quickly rustled up a few generic, but thought out, questions. 9:10. “We’ve lost the Aled interview.”

“Oh.” Disappointed face.
“But you can still do the Foolio interview.”

After aimlessly standing around for a good hour we were ushered down some corridors up to some offices where we found Toolio. He handed my editor type friend a lint roller. She uncomfortably rollered his back. He sat down and I asked my first question.

“Why do you care?” He answered. I made up some bollocks about how I enjoyed his music and a lot of students enjoy his music too. He looked at me blankly. I asked another question and got a similar response. I asked a third question, to which he span around in his chair and turned on a nearby computer.

I watched him dumbstruck; I looked to my editor type friend who mimed. “Carry on asking questions.” So I did, I carried on asking questions, with his back turned to me as he tried to hack into some poor soul’s computer. “I want to get on the internet.” He said. At this point I was pretty sick of flattering tired old Shmoolio and was uncomfortable playing to his ego. I carried on. He still tapped away at the keyboard with his back to me. “It’s time for you to go on Foolio.” A woman called from the corridor and he left without so much as a thanks, g’bye.

The second he left the room the only words that could escape my mouth were.
Oh. My. God.

It gave me some sordid satisfaction to see as we went downstairs not a button was interested in hearing him perform though. I think I would have left angry, though some G-Star models with their pristine abs out helped cheer me up.

Nothing like some hot men to take your mind off washed up talentless rappers.

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