Celebrity Mind Raid: Ed Sheeran

ed-sheeran

Last night was, as my close friends in the grime scene say, “A LOT” (shout out to Tinie!). Ya boy Ed was on a wave like I was riding on the crest of a Japanese tsunami (no offence intended to my fans if you or anyone you know has ever been affected by a tsunami). I bagged a couple gongs, sang a little song, wrestled my way through the press throng, went home and smoked a bong – nothing long.

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Lana Del Rey

Lana-Del-Rey

When I look in the mirror – which, contrary to what many of may believe, doesn’t happen all that often – I no longer see Lizzie Grant, daddy’s little girl. No, I see Lana Del Rey, a cross between Tupac Shakur and Zsa Zsa Gabor. The baddest bitch – but also a very sensitive soul. A delicate flower that is wilting under the unforgiving spotlight of unwanted attention. A scared newborn kitten drowning in the fame drain where it tumbled forth from its mother’s womb.

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Ed Miliband

Ed-Miliband

The 16th of October, 1980. That was the first day that word was thrust in my face. I remember it clearly because it was the day after Gentleman Jim Callaghan, my then idol (and also the name of my first pet gerbil), was ousted as leader of the Labour Party. I was ten years old – or should I say ten years young, since I certainly wasn’t old, considering I was only ten – and, unable to suppress my anguish any longer, I sobbed uncontrollably throughout a 55-minute afterschool recorder lesson at Primrose Hill Primary School. Griselda Thirion was the culprit. “You look incredibly ugly, Edward,” she spat, as tears dripped down onto the sheet music for “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. David, standing by my side, didn’t prevent himself from chuckling at me, as he so often did back then, leading others to follow. Who’s laughing now, Dave?

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Hugh Grant

hugh-grant-exposes-phone-hacking

A week last Tuesday I was at the checkout in Whole Foods – the Kensington branch – when something very much awry occurred. I’d like to point out at this juncture that I was just going about my very normal, everyday life – I was even wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Everything seemed fine until I handed the middle-aged lady at the till my Coutts Gold Card and I noticed her suddenly glancing at a message that had flashed up on the computer screen in front of her. Then she asked me the most bizarre question. “Would you like cashback, Mr Grant?” she said, trying desperately to effect an air of normality.

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Gregg Wallace

Gregg-Wallace

There’s nothing that gives me more pleasure when I come home on a cold winter evening than the sight of a fat, succulent bird splayed out on my kitchen table. (That’s not to say I’m a fan of coq au vin – that’s always been more Michel Roux Jr’s kind of thing, the fruity devil.) The mere thought of a piping hot lump of white (or brown) meat for me to devour is enough to send me into raptures. Sometimes it’s hard to stop myself taking a running jump onto the beast when I burst through the kitchen door.

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Prince William, Duke of Cambridge

Prince-William

We fought them in the fields of Flanders, we fought them on the beaches of Dunkirk, we fought them in the skies over Dover, we fought them in the sands of Egypt, we fought them in the jungles of Malaya – and this week, we fought our most iniquitous foe yet, in the FIFA headquarters in Zurich. And we won. Score!

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Jack Whitehall

Jack Whitehall

I’m kind of, sort of, a big deal right now. National TV series – tick. Plenty of wonga in the vault – yes. Acres of fanny on my tail – naturally. And I’m fucking hilarious. Sucks to be everyone else in the world right now, losers. Only joking. Ha ha!

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Celebrity Mind Raid: Frankie Cocozza

frankie cocozza

Mate, I’ve just heard that little Ed Sheeran’s had a type of peri peri sauce named after him by Nando’s. That’s made me want to work a million-and-one per cent harder to make it in this game. If a fat ginger – no disrespect, Ed, you’re a ledge, mate – can achieve that, then the sky is the limit for Frankie Cocozza. Just imagine: my own sausage roll at Greggs!?

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