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Here are the rules of the game: You have to come up with a tenuous connection to a celebrity. The cheesier or weirder the celebrity the more points you get. The more tenuous (or weirder) the connection the better too (although there is a cut-off point – seeing them on television does not count, nor does merely living in the same country).
Last years winners were:
(1) The Prestigious UK Award:
Norah: “I once snogged a guy whose gran knows Jon BonJovi’s mumâ€
(2) The Equally Prestigious International Award:
Jen: “Sean Penn cried in front of my mum about what a bitch Madonna wasâ€
You cannot use a connection that you have entered before. For the bibulous amongst you the prize is plonk. For the others (or at your discretion) it will be something that has fallen off the back of a truck headed for Amazon.com.
Place your entries by leaving comments. The winners will be decided Nigerian Election stylee: there will be a vote but then I will steal the ballot boxes.
Good luck!
Hmmm – I suspect the trick is to define the connection a tad more clearly. So – Oprah:
‘A fabric factory up north sent my sister a bit of silk that didn’t quite make it as far as touching Oprah Winfrey’s arse.’
Erm… I once worked with a woman who knew Brandon Block’s mum.
Also, my mum got rudely shoved out of the way by Leslie Crowther when he visited the hospital she was giving birth to me in.
Leslie Crowther’s pretty cheesy surely?
‘kay
here’s anuvver…
i deliberately dropped a biro so that i could have a good look at tony blair’s shoes when he and i were shoulder to shoulder at a ‘do’ (nasty, ugly brogues – really did not go with the paul smith suit either)
i have a thing about shoes…and tony blair
wasn’t able to get close enough to gordon brown to ogle at his footwear though, but my gosh, he’s tall and brooding and heathcliffian and A CONTROL FREAK
Princess Ann had lunch at a place in Dumfriesshire a few years ago.
She asked the waiter to compliment the chef on the smoked salmon.
My brother smoked that salmon.
I sat in a cheater’s booth with Jeffrey Archer once.
Yes, Moobs. That Jeffrey Archer.
I’m a little late I know but I’m waaaaaay behind on my reading. So, here’s my tardy entry.
And I have a lot to choose from, from my years in Los Angeles, including:
A one-hit-wonder that I have coital familiarity with (she reached #2 on the Billboard Single chart).
A cheesy cell phone photo with Peter Fonda…that I can produce upon request.
But my entry would have been the day I spent 15 minutes on a putting green with Ronald Regan. He was pretty far gone at this point in his life, putting four feet from the cup with one Secret Service agent placing the ball in front of the putter while another agent retrieved his putts and rolled the balls back. I was too chicken-shit to get my picture take with him, not to mention it would have been a major faux-pas at the well-to-do club where I was a guest. But his presence, even at that stage in his life was striking. I wish I’d gotten that picture.
Note: I’m neither a Republican, nor a Democrat, and have no particular political admiration for the former President, so any radical, anti-Regan people just chill.