002

There are lots of celebrities in London. I'm not sure why this is, but in only a year of living here I have seen multiple celebrities walking about on the streets like ordinary people. They include, but are not limited to, Michael Palin and Terry Jones, Chris Morris, Reece Shearsmith, Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding, Stewart Lee, Robert Vaughan, that Ian Curtis rip-off from Misfits, Christopher Ecclestone and Seasick Steve.

Where I lived before there were hardly any celebrities. I bumped into Dylan Moran once on the street, but everyone I knew had bumped into him at some time. It was something of a local phenomenon. I was there for five years and he was the only celebrity I saw.

I've seen others performing live on stage, but I don't think that counts.

I've never gone up and spoken to any of them, though. I don't think they would appreciate it, and if they would, I don't want to give them the satisfaction. I'm not here to validate their existence, nor am I there to ruin their day as they walk about with their children. I did talk to Julian Barrat once. He was very drunk in my local pub and I made some comment about how drunk he was. I didn't let on that I knew who he was though. I thought that would sully the experience for both of us. I spoke to Christopher Ecclestone as well, but only to recommend an ale he might like. I recommended one from Manchester, because I knew that was where he was born and I thought he might like that.

But when I'm famous I'll want people to talk to me. That's the only reason I want to do anything, is so that I'll have people stopping me in the street and telling me how much they like me and how I changed their lives and how my existence gives them some meaning and direction in an otherwise senseless and horrible world, because that's the kind of power I want to yield. And I'll ignore them because I'll have better things to do, because if I don't then I don't deserve to be famous.

I almost spoke to Stewart Lee, but he was at an alternative comedy night watching his wife, Bridget Christie, who I'd spoken to the week before without realising who she was, and the whole thing seemed very sordid and unfortunate as a result. I thought he might appreciate that and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

I've ignored all of them when I've seen them. Diverted my eyes and tried to pretend I haven't noticed that one off of the telly because they're probably sick of it, or desperate for it, and either way it's just too embarrassing for all involved not to pretend that I'm not even aware of their existence. It's probably for the best.

If someone does that to me when I'm famous I'll probably punch them.

I've probably walked past people that others would consider famous, like someone off the ironically titled I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here, and genuinely ignored them. This makes me happy on every level. I like to think of my ignorance causing them pain in a similar manner to the pain that they have inflicted on me.

I don't care about celebrities but I do sometimes worry that I'm obsessed with them. With fame. Like maybe that's the reason I moved to London. It's not. The reason I moved to London was fortune. And fame. It's complicated and I wouldn't expect members of the public to understand.

But just to be sure, and because I felt that given our proximity I should've met her when she was alive, the other night I snuck down to Amy Winehouse's grave and dug up her corpse. It's lying, bound and gagged, on the roof of my flat and most evenings I'll take a glass of wine with me up the small ladder to the roof and I'll sit there with Amy, discussing her music and shortcomings. She's a lovely girl. It turns out they're just like us, really.