Simon Pegg – everything, the bastard.
I wrote to Harry when I was in my teens, still reeling with confidence and ambition and an unnerving ability to avoid girls. I asked for his secret to authorismness and writing and stuff. He sent a handwritten postcard back that’s still kicking around somewhere. In it he advised me to meet him at the blurwurblubl book signing and there he would let me know how to obtain everything I desired. The location was not actually called blurwurblubl and I’ll never know where it was as the rain got to the ink before I did. My career is not in writing and I never met Harry. It was a turning point that forced me, years later, towards an ego-centric blog.
Simon Pegg. The bastard. He writes, acts, looks good in glasses and stole all my ideas. I was going to write most of the stuff I’ve read or watched of his. The style of writing, the facial expressions, all of it is what I’ve been wanting to do for years. Ok, having listened to his book (what? I like audiobooks. Get over it.) I realise he may have had a bit more training in just about everything I’ve ever had a hankering to excel in. That’s not the point though. Simon Pegg is a robbing bastard who stumped me before I could grow into the superstar I deserved to become.
I wrote to Simon to tell him all this and even a little more but he has thus far declined any response.