The following happened one special afternoon many years ago when I was about 5 years old. In a rather bizarre publicity stunt (or an employee had hired the costume for the weekend and wanted to get his money’s worth) none other than popular Stars War baddie Darth Vader was making a public appearance at our local Morrison’s supermarket. I somehow got to know about this and seeing Darth Vader at Morrison’s immediately became the thing that I wanted to do more than anything in the entire world. Even more than being a spaceman or going that high on the swings you did a loop the loop. I’m not sure exactly how I asked my mum if I could see Darth Vader but I’m pretty sure it was something like this: “I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! I WANT TO SEE DARTH VADER! PLEEEEEEASE!”. Following my enthusiastic pleas, I ensured my mum that seeing Darth Vader would make me the happiest little boy in the world and she agreed to take me to see him.
The wonderful day came and we arrived at Morrisons, I’d never been so excited, my whole life had been building up to this one moment. We entered the store and there was a small to medium sized crowd around the frozen food section. “He’s here!” I eagerly cried out. We swiftly approached the freezers, excitement bubbling in my brain, this was going to be the greatest moment ever! Then as we reached the front of the crowd, fish fingers on one side, a chicken product comprising of beaks and arseholes on the other, I caught a glimpse of his shiny black helmet. I then glanced upon his soulless face. At that point excitement turned to fear and I burst into tears as I looked into what (at my tender age) could only be described as pure evil. He bent down to try and reassure me and that made it even worse, I was completely convinced that the sole reason Darth Vader had come to Morrisons was to kill me. I was swiftly picked up and taken away by my mum. I cried all the way out, I was so distraught passers-by must have surely thought that I’d witnessed the killing of a field full of kittens with a hammer. Either that or Darth himself had touched me with his lightsaber.
Thankfully my first brush with a celebrity didn’t scar me for life, I later met Lion-O, the esteemed leader of The Thundercats and painter, noise maker and bearded extraordinaire Rolf Harris. Lion-O was great, in fact I think seeing a big yellow/orange person with big hair set me in good stead for the vast majority of girls I see on a night out. Rolf Harris was great too, he sat me on his knee (which was slightly weird, as I was 15) and drew me a Rolfaroo (although I do find the concept of the Rolfaroo a little disturbing. It’s like Rolfs mum got impregnated by a kangaroo and had some horrible mutant beardy baby). Darth Vader was one scary motherlicker though and even to this day, whenever I see him on the tellybox I think of frozen chicken nuggets and salty tears.
PS. I wasn't really 15 when I sat upon the knee of Rolf. I kind of just added that for comedy purposes. I was more like 8.
Love it Jamesie!
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