Derren Litten

Such a beautiful day. All of a sudden it's summer (although apparently it's only Spring), I love the sun but of course the best part of it being sunny is that I can sit in my car with the air conditioning on until my face gets really cold, my eyes sting and the bogeys in my nose go hard (nice….). I must stress at this point that I do actually go somewhere in my car, I don't just sit in the car in my street getting a cold face, dreaming of the day when I can afford air con in my house. So… I went to get me free penguin suit today from this posh hotel in London... I got there and at the reception a very camp Malaysian man (I say "man" he was about 23 and to be honest probably well on his way to becoming a laaaaydeee) said to me, "which company you frooooom?" (now at this point if you are in London I suggest you adopt a highly un-PC Benny Hill oriental accent to help you with the story. If you are reading this in the north you were probably doing it already). So he says, "which company you froooom?". I said, "I'm not from any company, this is the BAFTA hotel for this years television awards; I'm a nominee". The man then said, "you want television?". Oh dear... now there is a man behind me waiting to be served and I feel very self conscious even though it not my fault this guy doesn't know what's happening in the hotel where he works. Would I feel like this if the guy I was speaking to was stupid and English? Is the fact that he is stupid and Malaysian making me feel unnecessarily defensive now? (I say Malaysian only because he looks like the waiters in my favourite Malaysian restaurant... now how much of a racist do I sound??...) So anyway, much more weary nonsense on the lines of "you want television in hotel?"

Me: "No, I was told this was the official hotel for this years BAFTA television awards"…

Him: "You want BAFTAAAA?"…

Me: "Yes, yes, BAFTA, where in the hotel is BAFTA?"…

Him: "You work for BAFTAAAA?"….

Me: "No, I don't work for them, I'm here because I'm a nominee"…

Him: "You don't work for BAFTAAAA?"

Me: "Well, no, not really" …

Him: "Oh, OKaaaaaaaaay"…

Long pause.

Me: "Yes, actually, I do work for BAFTA"

Him: "Oh, OK, which part of BAFTAAAA you work for?"

Hang on, a minute ago he'd never fucking heard of BAFTA, sorry, BAFTAAAAAA.. now he wants to know who is head of my department… Now I feel like asking for a ball of wool and a loom and I'll make me own suit, it'll be quicker.

Me: "I work for the suits, for the people who are giving suits to people today"

Him: "Okaaaay, I think you go to room 510, fifth floor"

He THINKS??? Where the fuck did this magical piece of information spring from??? Has he just been taking the piss all along????

So I go to the fifth floor, room 510 and sure enough there are lots of racks of suits and men rushing around very efficiently with tape measures. So I got my suit, the money on my parking meter didn't run out and I wasn't asked to be the new candidate for the BNP party, North London…

They also had a room there where people from Audi were booking cars to take nominees to the ceremony on Sunday but I thought at this rate it would probably be quicker to walk.