So, as promised:
I'd been out for dinner with the Massey-Chi (still working on the spelling of that; it rhymes with 'hi', not 'he', and is the plural of Massey-Chase. Obvs.), and was walking home via the Southbank. I was just cutting down the side of the BFI to get to Waterloo, and I spotted a funny blonde man. You know the sort, scruffy hair, looking like a blow-dried dandelion (I passionately hate Frankie Boyle, but this is a good description); you know: portly, posh, would look at home in a straining waistcoat with Daffy Ducks holding hunting rifles on; you know: the sort of gent who falls in rivers, gets stuck on zip-wires - possibly intentionally, to cultivate a loveable buffoon persona, wants to be PM*.... You know: BoJo.
So, I spot Mr Mayor, and think hmmmm... Boris. There's lot's I'd like to chat to you about. There's lots on my mind. There's lots I want you to know, to understand, to appreciate. So, I walk up to him, all cajh (HOW DO YOU SPELL THIS? Casual, abbreviated). 'Hey Boris', I say. No, I don't. It went a bit like this:
Me: Hi, excuse me, good evening.
BJ: Hello (the story's loads better when you get to hear me do my best Boris voice; you'll jut have to imagine it)
Me: Have you just been to the Koestler Trust exhibition at the Southbank Centre? (of course he hadn't been; this was my well-planned/spontaneous opener - I'm a girl who thinks on her feet)
BJ: Pfhf, no, no, I've just been opening a library or something. Pfhf.
Me: Oh, well you really must go. It's an exhibition of art by offenders, and it's really fantastic. It was supposed to opened by Ken Clarke yesterday, but of course he couldn't...
BJ: Oh was it the other bloke?
Me: No, Chris Grayling didn't come (raising a pointed eye-brow). It was the minister...
BJ: For beatings and hangings?! Pfhfh.
Me: The Chief Inspector for Prisons, yes. But, yeah, it's really impressive.
BJ: Do you work in the industry then?
Me: Yes, yeah, prison arts, yeah.
BJ: Do you know Rachel Billington? (I think that's who he said)
BJ: Editor of Inside Time.
Me: Oh, yes, of course (I don't). I, ummm, I was asked to write for them once.
BJ: Or Danny.
BJ: Danny Kruger.
Me: The name rings a bell....
BJ: Chap always putting plays on in prisons and that.
Me: (nod, nod - later discover he's the Only Connect guy).
BJ: Anyhow, better get going.
Climbs on bike.
Me: Bye. Nice to talk to you. Good to see you wearing a helmet.**
He cycles off. I feel weirdly elated and chuckle to myself all the way home. I M-C'ed the BoJo. Politely and about prison arts. That's how the KMC rolls.
*Check out the Daily Mash on BJ as PM. It's funny (forward slash terrifying) cos it's true: Britain demands amusing prime minister
**Btw, that last comment was influenced by the knowledge that last time my girlfriend saw him cycling down the Grays Inn Rd, she thought, 'Who's that knob-end in a Travel For London bobble hat? Oh. Of course.'