Diamond Geezers are forever

Someone posed a question the other day- What is my single most embarrassing moment? Immediately a plethora of images flickered through my mind as I recalled times when I have prayed for the ground to open up and ingest me whole, or have longed for spontaneous combustion. Such gems as the time I went Speed Dating and hurled abuse at all attendees, or the time that I got up at Karaoke night refused to get off stage and kept asking the DJ to ‘hit me’ with another track, or the time I thought it would be fun to hack into my works phone system and change everyone’s outgoing voicemails while drunk, or when I came onto a dashingly handsome fellow at a work function blissfully unaware that not only was he straight, he was the General Managers husband. And how could I ever forget the time that I applied fake tan for a blind date, which next morning had come off on the guys Egyptian cotton sheets. That was awkward enough, but the fact that when he’d commented on my colour the night before I'd embellished and said I was in fact of Greek decent was slightly more reprehensible now that my ‘heritage’ had stained his linens.

I responded saying ‘It’s difficult to pick just one as my life has been one embarrassing moment and I could literally write a book about some of the more thwarting things that have happened to me’. What’s funny is that I say ‘happened to me’ when in fact most things are caused by me, so in fact, I am merely living in the hell of my own making. My sheer existence at times it seems, is to publicly humiliate myself, which makes me wonder if that is why I have previously dated sociopaths.

I decided that as I am a self deprecating kind of guy, I would start blogging about some of my less than fabulous moments. Let’s begin with the night I met hot British actor Danny Dyer.

I have been a fan for ten years, and fell head over heels in love when he adorned my screen in the film Human Traffic. Since then I have seen every film he has been in, the good, the bad and the very very ugly. Even when his films are dreadful, they are first-rate, because it has him in it to salivate over. Yes he may play the same character in every single film, but my life has always been lacking consistency, and that dear readers I get through Danny. He is the one true constant in my inconsistent life.

So, you can imagine my delight when last April my friend Charles invited me to a party called Diamond Geezers, which his PR agency was arranging. It was Danny Dyer and Tamer Hassan's party ( they starred inThe Business together) that they were throwing ahead of their involvement in something called Gumball Rally, launching the next evening at the Trocadero which I also had tickets for.

I had promised myself that if I were ever to meet him I would be uber cool, incredibly unfazed and would win him over with my undeniable wit. I would praise him on his acting abilities, show what a fan I was by quoting obscure lines from lesser known films and ask if I would ever get the chance to see him at the theatre and possibly get into a heated debate about the film industry, he’d realise that I could stand my ground, which would result in me appearing even more alluring.

What essentially happened could not be further from the truth. Telstar and I rocked up at a jewellers on Bond Street where the party was being held- all very themed we deduced, holding a Diamond Geezers soiree in an actual shop that specialised in diamonds. It was very James Bond. Sadly, the diamante encrusted belt I was wearing was not forever. The night got off to a bad start when we hit the red carpet. Being the nobodies that we are, the paparazzi groaned, asked each other very audibly who ‘the queens’ on the carpet were, stopped taking pictures and then chatted amongst themselves until real Z-listers arrived.

‘Are you here to cover or to play?’ enquired the lady on the door. ‘Play’ we squealed in unison, whilst jumping up and down a little and clapping like seals. Surprisingly, after this display, we were still allowed in.

Two glasses of champagne in (we’d already necked a bottle of wine in approximately 10 minutes in a bar around the corner for medicinal purposes, naturellement) and we were starting to ignore the suspicious looks from the other guests. We were dressed like extras on Pimp My Ride, and everyone else had opted for their best designer attire. Not only did we not belong, but we looked like we didn’t belong and were sticking out like two sore gays.

All of a sudden the room became saturated in flash lights and the click of cameras. Danny was on his way in the door. In he walked with Tamer, down the stairs, and everyone followed him into what can only be described as a secret nightclub under the shop. There was a bar, a celebrity DJ, a dance floor, and Nintendo Wii consoles. This is not what you expect to find underneath a Jewellers on Bond Street. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, and I knew the first thing I wanted to take a bite out of.

Thankfully the bar was free so we ordered drinks and scuttled into a corner where we had a perfect view of our beloved. Sipping champagne and staring at Danny Dyer- what could be better? We continued to make full use of the free bar, hitting it with such frequency that the bar staff would simply lift two fingers and tilt their heads when we approached to enquire if we wanted yet more champagne, to which either one of us would simply nod and say ‘We’ll have another two’.


We persistently watched our man from afar while he played on the games console taking deep and sharp breaths every time he moved. He looked so delicious, I knew he had to be fattening. I’d never felt so star struck and love struck at the same time. After another nine glasses of champers, I was full of courage and ready to make my move. Telstar went to the toilet and I decided to pounce. When he came back, I was playing the Nintendo with Danny. To say I couldn’t concentrate is an understatement, my heart was pounding, my crotch was throbbing and I was feeling quite lightheaded. I crashed down to earth when Telstar hustled in between us and demanded to know what I was doing, and told my man not to talk to me.

I threw myself at him and said 'I love you, I’ve seen all your films, don’t talk to this one he’s a cunt’ and Telstar started saying ‘No Danny I’m the real fan, this one’s the cunt’. We then started fighting over Danny Dyer, in front of Danny Dyer, hurling quotes and insults at each other, which is not the best approach admittedly. Danny eventually said 'Listen boys, you’re mates, stop calling each other cunts’ which only made us vie for his attention even more. He subsequently gave us a hug, and said ‘you’re both cunts, I fuckin’ love you irons*’

Now I have been called a cunt by a man before, whilst in bed in fact, and I did not enjoy it one bit. He actually spat on me and then called me a cunt, which he thought was entirely customary, but I found truly disconcerting. However, being called it by Danny Dyer was a completely different and it was the most romantic thing I had ever heard. We started having a chat and he asked what our favourite films were, told us how much he loved his fans, had his picture taken with us and was the nicest, most humble man either of us has ever met. Instead of asking him all the things I always said I would, all I kept saying was ‘Seriously, I fucking love you. No, but you don’t understand Danny, I really love you’. I’m surprised that he didn’t give us both a wallop, or have us thrown out, but he acted like we were the only two in the room. To be fair, we WERE the only two homos in the room professing our undying love for a straight man. He must have been completely bemused when he realised that he didn’t know any queerlings and most definitely hadn’t invited any to his party yet here were Gay and Gayer doing the whole presenting of the butt ritual.

We spoke of his gay following and he asked if I had seen his Attitude Magazine front cover. ‘Seen it??! Danny I masturbate to it every day’ I screeched, which again, instead of taking offence, he laughed at. I then told him that my dream was to take a line of cocaine off of his cock, and enquired if it would be possible. ‘Uh, yeah, maybe later babe’ he said and then that was it, off he went. I don’t think he was particularly offended by what I had said, and to this day I still maintain that he left in pursuit of getting some of the old Columbian powder to make my dream a reality.

The rest of the night is pretty much a blur, I recall telling the DJ he was useless for not playing Prince, I threw myself at Tamer and told him I wanted to blow Danny and made a general fool of myself on the dancefloor. When Tamar addressed the room on a microphone to thank everyone for coming he said ‘I’m just gonna say a few words, but before I start I just wanna say I’ve got a couple of fucking Iron’s behind me and they’re in love with Danny Fucking Dyer and this one(pointing to me) wants to do a line of Charlie off his ol’ boy’ Now this was a room full of the underbelly of London’s gangster world, modern day Krays and people that you really wouldn’t want to be caught down a dark alley with, let alone in a secret room beneath a jewellers on Bond Street- I feared we were about to become next days front page news ‘Homo’s found beheaded and impaled on Blackfriars bridge’ but instead of trying to kill us, they all laughed and applauded, which neither of us were expecting. Realising that our 15 seconds of fame was nearly up, Telstar grabbed the microphone from Tamer and announced to the room ‘I am all about the Tamar Hassan’ to which there was another huge round of applause from our indulgent audience. We gave them a bow and let Tamer continue his speech, all the while interjecting and screaming ‘We love you’.

Danny, Tamer and most of their troupe left shortly after the speech, but Telstar, myself and the rest of the freeloaders continued to dance and drink the free bar. I fell over at some point and knocked myself unconscious on the dance floor. When I regained consciousness a few people were putting cold towels on my head and asking if I was ok. The first thing I said was 'What’s going on, where the fuck is Danny Dyer’ when to be perfectly honest I should have been thanking these people for looking after me. Next thing I know I was flying through the air. That is the very first time that I have actually been thrown out of anywhere and into the bins. I felt like Courtney Love. As Telstar was with me, he sadly befell the same fate, which did not amuse, because he was having a great time mixing with the Z list celebrities and was having a real bonding experience with Big Brovaz and Abs from 5ive.

The following night we had VIP tickets to the Gumball launch which Danny and Tamer would be at again. You would think, that based on my performance at the previous party that I wouldn’t have the temerity to turn up. But my motto has always been there’s nothing like regret to remind you that you’re alive, so I reasoned I had better get down there and behave even more regretfully.

Now, meeting Danny Dyer the night before was brilliant. Being recognised by him as I sauntered into the VIP section was priceless. As we walked in Tamer said ‘Have a look, it’s the irons again’ Danny bowled over, gave me a big hug and said ‘How’s it goin babes? I died a little bit and then told him all about my behaviour after he had left the party, which he found HIGHlarious. The whole time I was relaying the story to him, he was stroking my chest, which was the most erotic yet unnerving thing that I have experienced. We chatted for a while and then he asked ‘You still wanna do that line of Charlie off me cock?’ grabbed his crotch turned, walked away and said ‘get in there my son’ It was the most perfect moment of my life.

So, what I would say to anybody, when meeting a celebrity is to just be yourself. Turns out they not only appreciate it, but you’ll be remembered for it too. I’ve now met Danny a number of times and we have a bit of banter, and I always ask him if I can blow him. He declines my offer, but one day I know he is just going to unleash the monster and let me feed.

I do die of mortification when I call to mind just how disgraceful I was the first time we met, but then he knows me by name now, and that quite frankly, is worth the inner shame.

* Cockney Rhyming Slang- Iron Hoofs = Poofs