Friday, February 24, 2006


My awful cold prevented me from sleeping on Monday and Tuesday nights. (This is added to my absence of sleep from the previous week.) Come Wednesday I was in a narcoleptic state but still could not fall asleep due to barking like a seal and having a hypocritical nose that gushed snot and was blocked-up simultaneously. After I miraculously completed a conference paper/presentation for next week, I swallowed two doses of Night Nurse and crawled into bed. If you're not British and are unfamiliar with Night Nurse, think about the effects of Niquil and multiply them by 20.

Exactly three (3) minutes after I closed my eyes, my mobile rang. It was my work, telling me that I needed go to cover a behind-the-scenes of something and then they gave me an address. But before I was told what it was that I was covering, the Los Angelean producer grabbed another telephone and hung up on me. I somehow dragged myself from bed, threw on some decent clothes, fixed my bed-head, and began sludging towards some random studio space in Shoreditch, almost to Hackney, to which I'd never been. At one point I might have fallen asleep on a doorstep on Kingsland Road, I'm not sure - I don't really remember much by this point. The Night Nurse was serving its absolute purpose of putting me into an automatic deep sleep.

When I arrived, I presented my press pass and explained that I was meeting my crew upstairs. A security woman led me into an elevator and up to the studio. When I marched off the elevator, three topless women smiled at me. One waved. I decided immediately that I was hallucinating because of the Night Nurse and my insomnia. I told myself that this was all a dream. I told myself that I had fallen asleep on Old Street or Hackney Road and, strangely, I was dreaming about breasts. My eyelids opened and closed heavily about six or seven times while I attempted to decipher if this was actually happening.

I walked further into the studio. Boobs! Everywhere! Insanity! This must be a joke, I told myself. The L.A. office is obviously having a go at me. They've sent me to a porn shoot as a fucking joke. Completely naked women circled around me while I struggled to remain conscious. My mobile rang, and after pushing the Send button but before I got a chance to say Hello, a fellow producer said, "So you're at the Naked News auditions, right?" I groaned Yes, as that was all I was able to say.

I had to interview all of these breasts. I thought to myself, For someone in his mid-20s, I am quite an accomplished journalist; I've got a very impressive resume. I have been to every major entertainment awards show in New York, Los Angeles and London at least once. I was down at Ground Zero with a camera crew for a month after 9/11. I have met some of the most famous, infamous, and influential people on the late 20th century. Now I'm talking to tits. But then I reminded myself that in November of 2004 I had to interview a dog who knew how to use an ATM and pay a pub tab. So in actuality, today didn't seem so bad.

During a five minute break, in order to keep myself entertained and awake, I replied to my younger brother's text with, Hi Boy. I'm interviewing a bunch of nekkid women. Not kidding. I'm surrounded by bare tits! You would love it. I am now straight.

While asking quick questions for soundbites, out of complete delirium, I began laughing. Loudly and uncontrollably. It suddenly dawned on me how ridiculous I must've looked surrounded by all these breasts. The bare chests of these women were all at my eye level, some even higher. I was a little blond kid in a candy store who didn't even have to bend over to catch a full-on view of all the treats. Breasts! All over the place! Amazing! And all the while, I am positioned in the middle of the room with a microphone, doing my best to remain standing, coughing up mucus and childishly wiping my nose on my sleeves because I have no other choice. I felt like I was inside of a giant womb. And apparently, in my Night Nurse-induced state, I found this hilarious. I don't think I've ever been in such a hysterical state before.

Later, when I returned to our studio to do my satellite feed to L.A., I listened to the excited yelps and moans of the male satellite electricians in both London and California while they watched all these naked women. Then, during the short interviews, the electricians in both cities fell on the floor laughing because the audio of the Naked News ladies' interviews was completely drowned out by the sound of my uncontrollable laughter. So basically I compiled a piece with myself laughing at a bunch of boobies with the visual of lotsa nekkid ladies.

About six hours later when I was finally home and in bed, I received a reply text from Boy, who stated, Yeah. Right. Straight. Whatever. You're straight until you interview a giant penis.

I've got little feet 'cuz nothing grows in the shade. - Dolly Parton