It's a warm Saturday night.
As I'm chatting to Andrea, our HSBC client, an arm reaches across from an adjacent booth holding a large gin 'n tonic.
A bizarre mid-Atlantic Brummie voice says 'Ere, you want this?'
I look up and see a wart. A large scary looking one with a bit of hair sticking out.
It looked strangely familiar. Aunt Elizabeth?
Hold it, there's only (other) person in the world with a wart like that.
It's Lemmy from Motorhead.
"It's Lemmy isn't it"
"Yeah that's right"
I take the drink in one hand and hold out the other:
"Toddy, nice to meet you"
"Hmph"
He turns back to his two female companions for the evening. Combined age 34ish.
Not being a massive Motorhead fan this doesn't have a huge effect on me.
However 30mins later the celeb sucker in me decides I should post it on Facebook.
But I need pictorial evidence.
I return and ask my trusty Account Director Hamish to stand ready with iPhone as I approach one of his young ladies.
"Could I have my photo taken with him?"
Presley, that is her name, replies "Of course honey, you come right over."
Lemmy leaves his seat next to Scarlett, the other half of 34ish, and we sit together.
He stretches his arm out, with a large central 'fuck you' middle digit raised firmly to camera. He's definitely done this before. So, when in Rome...
I copy his pose but don't appear so threatening in my confused wardrobe of speccy glasses, zip up Adidas top and IT bloke hair.
'Click'
'Shit.' Hamish mutters under his breath.
Lemmy moves awkwardly in his seat and growls.
The beast from Stoke-on-Trent is not happy.
Me neither.
Sweat developing on speccy brow.
'Click'
'Fuck. Shit. Sorry Toddy.'
Hamish now shaking slightly.
Lemmy with his Nazi cap looks like he's going to do something to me that Himmler would be proud of.
A small poop is developing in my pants.
'Click'
O God please make it end.
He's going to kill me. And then probably cut me up and eat me with Presley and Scarlett.
Worse still, Andrea is really laughing at us now.
'Click'
"Hmph"
I post it.
And call him 'Lenny'.
