A while back I mentioned getting stuck in between Victoria Beckham's legs so I thought I'd better do some explaining. Also, it's a pretty quick post (and yet again, I'm aware that I haven't posted in ages) so I'm cheating a little bit.
On the 12th August 2012 I took part in the Closing Ceremony of the London 2012 Olympic Games. I'd been a volunteer drummer in the Opening Ceremony a couple of weeks previously, and for the Closing Ceremonies we were asked, again as volunteers, to work as "marshalls", which basically involved keeping the athletes penned in and making sure that they didn't get run over by the Spice Girls on black taxi cabs.
Although we had almost run in with the German athletes who narrowly avoided the Kaiser Chiefs on mopeds on their way back from the loo (the athletes, the Kaiser Chiefs were on mopeds which weren't allowed in the toilets), the night was a success and I think we managed to show off enough British music to let the world know that it's not all about the Beatles (although Liam Gallagher did murder Wonderwall, for which he will never be forgiven in my eyes anyway, and I haven't been able to listen to an Emili Sande song in months...)
During the Opening Ceremony I managed to get quite a few TV shots. More than the Queen, my friends tell me, and so many that it resulted in them all playing drinking games via Facebook during the athletes parade every time they spotted me. I was completely unaware of this detail, except for when the flame was being ignited and the world looked on in awe, and all I could concentrate on was my pocket vibrating with 80+ notifications.
We'd been rehearsing for months for the Industrial Revolution segment and seven times in the run up to the night we'd rehearsed the Athletes Parade (which takes over 2 hours) to real time, with no athletes. By the time it got to the night, I'd kind of zoned out...
When it came to the Closing Ceremony I vowed that I would not get caught short without a smile. I'd grin through the whole 4 hours if I had to. And grin I did. So imagine my delight when I was in the hairdressers the week after, flicking through OK! Magazine and my face appears between Posh Spice's legs...
The lightbulb doesn't exactly help. I Tweeted her to apologise, but she was obviously too busy telling her mates about being in OK! Magazine with me...
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