Claims to fame

1. The back of my head is in The Datsuns music 'promo' for the song 'In Love'.
   N.B. You can't actually see me, just vague dark shapes that appear to be people shaped. I was upset they done it in black and white as I was wearing a bright pink headscarf that night so in colour I would have been easily identifiable. I still feel the same level of disappointment that you can't make me out now as I did when I first saw it all those many moons ago.
   SAZZ FACT 1: I once stood next to a winsomely geeky looking individual that was also living off this impressive claim to fame. Apparently he had been stood next to me for the entire gig. I did not recognise him.
   SAZZ FACT 2: The day after this was filmed my car was driven into by a lorry 5 miles outside of Newquay. The paramedics were worried that I said yes when they asked if I had neck ache but, to my continued shame and embarrassment, I had to admit that I had in fact been 'headbanging' the night before and my neck had been hurting all day so that probably explained that.
   
   
2. I once saw Russell Brand in the Oxford Street branch of H&M. This was back in the days of him presenting the Dancefloor Chart. Having now read his autobiography I know this is around the area where our Russ used to go and 'score'. He was on his phone for a very long time, so looking back now, I reckon he was making a 'deal' of some kind. I texted two friends both of whom were like 'who??' and when I explained further they were both like 'URGH! I HATE HIM!'. Which made me feel like an idiot for getting so excited but regardless, my mother and I flitted about all giggly and girly and desperately hoping he would notice AND YET AT THE SAME TIME would NOT notice us. Suffice it to say, he did not notice us. Bloody junkies.
   
   
3. I had two emails read out on BBC 6music. One was on a one-off show about the top cover versions of all time which Liz Kershaw presented. Alas, she RUINED my hilarious joke about M-People by using the wrong inflections on the wrong words and obviously not reading it through in her head before reading it out to the listening public. I am still bitter about this. (Although, rather ironically perhaps, I can't remember the actual joke... I think it had something to do with stabbing myself in the ears. I know I thought about it for a while before submitting the form with my picks of top 3 cover versions and worst ever cover version at any rate) (M-People were my worst one... Just to make that clear). The other was to Russell Howard's show, specifically addressed to Jon Richardson as the week before he had said no-one has ever used the word 'ennui' in a text message before, when I had used it THAT DAY to Chloe ('The coffee machine hates me too*. I ordered tea and got lukewarm milky sugar water. This is not helping my ennui') . He claimed that I was not using the word 'ennui' in the correct manner and basically implied that I wasn't as clever as I think I am. I loved him before but, from that day forward my love has known no bounds (it really *is* that simple if you want to pick up chicks - the ol' Kenickie mandate of 'treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen' works a thousand times over. But then, men are just the same - the ones you want never want you, the ones you're *just* short of spitting on think on tend to treat you like a goddess. Universally, in the stages of evolution, something has gone a bit wrong somewhere).
   *This was following on from the fact that I had been previously been bemoaning the One Stop guy's unrelenting reign of HATE against me. I don't know what I did, or when (although I suspect it was the fact that I flashed my gusset once or twice (i.e. 'all the time') when bending down to get my weekend paper of choice and was constantly buying tobacco - he seemed like a bit of a traditionalist in the 'girls shouldn't really smoke or flash their gussets on a Sunday' type way) . He said probably 7 words in total to me over the course of a year which, considering I went in nearly every day and he served me, on average, four times a week, is pretty impressive. Sadly, under normal circumstance, I would have thought he was awesome as he sported a rather fetching moustache and yet I was forced to join in the game of non-communication on a level that even I found a bit much. No eye contact, no verbal directioning, he wouldn't even tell me how much my items came to. I would be FORCED to work it out in my head or constantly make sure I had notes on me just so I wouldn't lose the game by having to say 'how much, sorry?'
   
   
4. I came first in a Crayola colouring-in competition when I was seven (in the 'under-8's' category). I'm not entirely convinced this is true. I don't even remember what I actually coloured in to win this supposed competition and although I DO remember getting an AWESOME set of Crayola colouring-in pencils in this yellow spiral stand with ALL the colours of the Crayola rainbow (cerulean and magenta are still hands down favourites) I don't know for certain that this wasn't like, fifth prize and my mum just didn't want me to feel bad for losing. Although that's never been her style so maybe I did win. Or maybe it was all a glorious dream concocted by my child's mind. Either way I still fucking LOVE colouring-in.
   
   And in at number five with a bullet...
   
   
5. I once saw Paul Ross and his wife in Guildford High Street. Yes, THE Paul Ross that does This Morning sometimes and every single talking head show every produced. I basked in the presence of greatness and let me tell you... it was pretty wild. Paul had on jeans that were a mite too tight for him and had chosen the bold fashion choice of topping this off with a denim shirt THAT HE HAD TUCKED IN TO THE AFOREMENTIONED JEANS. It was, and I hope this goes without saying, insanely erotic. I still have dreams about it.
   

So that's my life. That's the anecdotes I live off again and again. When I meet people I don't bother with names or small talk, I just launch into telling them all of these little gems of my life. The one that didn't quite make it into the top 5 is the time that Lisa Moorish (she of the now defunct band 'Kill City' and Liam Gallagher and Pete Doherty babymama 'fame') complemented the tie I was wearing. It doesn't make the annuls of fame due to the fact that I still feel embarrassed when I think of it. See, I went to a gig at a TINY venue called The Joiners to see a new, much-buzzed about band, that called themselves 'The Libertines' with my brother. He went to get more beer whilst I held our position at the very front of the stage. Next to me where two very hip young gunslingers ('twats') that also had on ties. It was only when she came down off stage (they is no 'back stage' at the Joiners. There is 'stage' and then there is 'floor'. Although there is a holding area in the basement for the band and their hangers on but you have to walk through the crowd to reach the basement door so, as I say, there is 'stage' and there is 'floor') she said 'hey I love your tie... you three look great all coordinated with that look'. The two hip young gunslingers looked at her in shock and then looked at me which such DISDAIN on their faces that Lisa could think they would EVER allow a creature such as myself to be in their 'gang' that I vowed never to wear a tie again. And I haven't (for the most part). Although it was around the time that Avril was tooling around singing about 'sk8r bois' in her charmingly illiterate way, and I took umbrage with the idea of anyone assuming I'd copied my look from her so had to wave goodbye to the ties. I soon moved on to headscarfs (see point 1) and the world kept turning.

Missed claims to fame: Over the weekend I had a chance to tell one of my favourite bloggers (I hate that word) that I loved his blog and chickened out every time he passed me by. The first time he went by I think I seriously freaked him out as I recall my train of thought went something like this 'God there's a lot of people that dress like me here, I thought I had my own Sazz style but no. I'm just the same as the rest of them, that saxophonist is cute. I wonder what he looks like without his hat. Where's Chloe? I'm bored. Huh, that guy looks familiar, where do I... OH MY GOD IT'S MATTHEW CROSBY. STAY CALM STAY CALM. Should I tell him I love his blog? How wanky would that make me sound on a scale of 1 to 10? OH CHRIST HE CAN SEE ME I HOPE MY FACE ISN'T BROADCASTING ALL THESE THOUGHTS. Ok, he's nearly here now and he's looking at me with mild concern. I should say something so he knows I'm not a nutjob that stares at people for no reason [please note: this is a lie], shall I just tap him on the arm as he goes past and say 'hey! Matthew! Love your work!' or just play it cool 'aren't you Matthew Crosby? Oh yeah your blog is really funny' all suave like or just... oh. He's gone'