God, I love writers. Weirdly, when you introduce two directors to each other, they'll often look distinctly wary. Why, you might as well place a cat next to a dog. Writers, however, are a different matter. We love to share our stories of pain, delight and displacement. Why, you might as well place a cat next to a cat, then throw in some cream.
Some stalwart members of the blogosphere post pictures of themselves. Some don't. So you may occasionally be left wondering what the latter bunch look like - and will therefore enjoy the following photos. Yes, a load of bloggers got together for a Christmas booze-fest the other day, and I captured some of their souls with a modern-day device. It was a truly overwhelming night - everywhere you looked, there was a brilliant person. Really hard to know who to talk to next. A few of the attendees who somehow managed to escape my roving lens of doom were David Lemon and his good lady Rachel, Katharine Way and Sarah Olley. The crafty geese.
First up, here's master Oli, all the way from Devon. Oli's looking justifiably delighted, because he's just had a very good day in London. Which he still hasn't revealed the details of on his blog, so I shan't here.
The early part of the evening was sadly marred by an angry debate about exactly how big the average adult baboon's head might be. Here's Stevyn throwing in his two penn'orth, as Piers and Janet look on, disgruntled and positively itching to have their say:
The delightful Lara spent much of the night at a 45-degree angle, which was initially a shock, but we soon made allowances. Here, we see Lord Perry manfully stepping up to the plate and keeping the good lady propped.
Next, we see a sad example of the kind of bitching which is rife in the scribosphere. The evil Baron Von Barronhausen and The Stack Attack are quite literally talking behind Paul's back here, calling him a greedy bastard for having both an EastEnders and a Holby airing on April 21, 2009. Paul's fully aware of what they're saying and maintains a brave face, but the pain is all too evident:
Ultimately, however, it's all too much. When his fellow writers start slagging off his "silly writing shed", Paul moves over to talk to Piers and Janice about Phill and Danny, while furiously necking a pint like it's mere orange juice.
Ahhhhh, the lovely Michelle! The Brighton-based scribe has a remarkable idiosyncrasy - whenever she consumes her 27th pint, she starts to hallucinate ants. Here, we see her happily pointing out two of them, while Phill pretends not to hear and attempts to keep a straight face...
... but ultimately fails.
Here's cheeky Lara again (and Nick, loitering), still at 45-degrees after consuming everything on this table. Shortly after this picture was taken, she did a little 45-degrees dance for us. I've never seen the like in all my born days:
All ludicrous things must sadly come to an end. Here's Stevyn, waving goodbye to you. He's only going to the Gents, but he likes to wave.
And here's Lara again, magically upright thanks to an elaborate pulley system suspended from the ceiling. The landlord helped us rig it up, fearing that if she never left, he might run out of gin. She's waving goodbye too! Oh, and look: there's the tops of the David and Rachel's craniums.
But hold on, Stevyn and Lara: we can't let you get away that easily. Come on, just one last pose - perhaps with just a soupcon of camp thrown in? Could you? Indulge us. It's Christmas! Ah, there we go. That's the business:
Piers, however, is not amused: