There are some very strange days in this business and even stranger nights. Having got back from Roma during the late afternoon and just got in the taxi to go home, the phone rings, the caller asking if I can go to Madonna’s house in the West End of London, Yes no probs, I’ll leave as soon as I get home.
Two hours later, I am outside Madonna and Guys’ posh west London home. On my arrival, I spot some of the competition (a blunt and tog sitting in car) and a Big pap on a moped. (It is important that you say Big in the same tone as you would describe something on the bottom of you shoe). After an hour or so several more togs and blunts from the Daily Papers and the Sundays arrive.
After a media huddle to find out what the crack is (I was only sent because someone else was here) it turns out that we are all there because another paper was there.
It appears someone spotted a photographer and blunt outside the house of Madonna and called his or her news desk, then someone else called in to say all the press are there. Therefore, those that were not there sent somebody. The next thing you know the whole of Fleet Street are there. It subsequently turns out that a reporter and photographer had finished doing a job nearby, and just happened to park in the same road that Madonna lives in, whilst they were waiting for the call to knock it on the head, (makes sense she lives in a nice central area, with plenty of parking meters and a maccy D’s around the corner.
So there is no story…. So everyone has to stay there until their paper is put to bed, so the dailies leave at about 11pm, the Sundays are back the next day, just in case there is story, Great! The only good thing is that Digital Terrestrial TV is good there and I was able to catch up on the news for the 3 days I missed in Italy.