Fill me in! (Or “How Dan embarrasses himself”)
A last minute text from my mate Lisa has meant that she’s taking a late lunch so that she can meet me for a coffee. I’m sitting in Costa in Rayleigh, a town situated between Chelmsford and Southend.
I don’t know much about Rayleigh, other than it seems a little chavvy, and the locals here seem to go to Southend more than my town.
The woman behind the counter was singing “It wasn’t me” by Shaggy to her colleague, both stood only a few feet in front of me, before she asked “Oh, what was the name of that Craig David one? I knew all the words to that!”
The pair of them ummed and ahhed for a minute or two, pondering loudly whether it was Seven Days that they were thinking of. Eventually, the singer turned my way and I managed to catch her eye.
“Fill me in!” I said.
Her face dropped.
“Sorry?” she asked.
Oh God, she thinks I’m some kind of nutter. I braced myself and smiled, saying a little louder this time.
“Fill. Me. In.” My teeth were on show like Richard Branson doing a Cheshire Cat impression, aware that I sounded like a maniac.
It felt as if time had stopped, and the room had grown quiet. The look of bewilderment flashed across the scared face of the woman I’d been addressing. Her mouth moved slightly, searching for words that weren’t coming, a look of slight terror in her eyes.
“His first single,” I added, the desperation to be understood and not branded a pervert in a strange town, “Fill Me In! Craig David.”
Her fingers snapped together “THAT’S THE ONE!” she screamed at her colleague before launching into an admittedly average version for everyone in the shop.