once smiled at me......
Oh, and my then G/f turned down Denny Laines libidious intentions
several times....
NOW if Mr Laine had offered swopsies with HIS good lady wife, Jojo, we may have had a deal....

from New York in 1999, the overnight to Heathrow. Anybody who has ever flown that one knows that by the time you get back, you look and feel like a sack of manure, especially if you've been there for a fortnight and barely slept anyway, and you are using up your final few shreds of vaguely useable clothes to trek home in.

Arriving at about 5am, I was especially delighted to find that my luggage was not on the same fight as me. I was told to wait 90 minutes as it would "probably be on the next one".

The baggage hall emptied and I sat myself down to wait, having a read of the Richard E Grant diaries. I heard some heels clattering across the floor but really, I hadn't got the energy to look up until said heels arrived next to me, and decanted a rather luminous young lady onto the seat next to me.

"Richard's such good fun isn't he?"

I did one of those comedy "are you talking to me" double takes last seen in Laurel & Hardy, and found myself in conversation for the next few minutes with Elizabeth Hurley. She'd been on the same flight - up the posh end mind - and looked bloody extraordinary, fresh as a daisy, immaculately dressed and made up, sufficently fragrant to mask whatever odour it was that I had been giving off prior to her arrival. I've never been able to work out if looking that good at such an ungodly hour was natural to her and that's why she was such a success, or if first class really is that good.

Still, I've been able to forgive her everything ever since. Even Bedazzled.

round the back of Newcastle City Hall.

Sorry, I meant to say we shook hands.

Years ago I was found myself sitting in the corner of a beer tent at the Reading Festival when our group were joined by a couple of nice young ladies. It was late in the evening, and bitterly cold, and one of the girls decided to warm herself up by sitting behind me, wrapping her legs around my waist, and sticking her arms inside my jumper. She remained like this for several minutes.

I'm much too much of a gentleman to names names, but here's a picture:

Also: Shirley Manson once stroked my hair.

... is "Chapeau!" (I believe that's the French expression).

I know (70s singer-songwriter, on Island Records, toured with Wishbone Ash) Claire Hamill quite well, and have been lucky/startled enough to have received a "Chaka Khan" from her on occasion. It's probably a hippy thing.

Grateful thanks to Hot Cider for the Half Man Half Biscuit lyric:
"Debbie Harry gave me a handjob / round the back of Newcastle City Hall"

I used to go eveywhere with my dog and we worked next to a well known venue in Brighton. My dog always hung out at the Cafe next door scrounging biscuits from the punters. Various times he was hugged,fed,patted and was played with by the following
Justine,Donna and Annie from Elastica
Chrisse Hynde
Louise Wener (Sleeper)
Sonya Madan (Echobelly)
Kim Wilde -this was outside a newsagent in Covent Garden
Lindy Layton- Beats International
All the members of Huggy Bear
Courtney Love- Pre Kurt
Darcey Bussell (Ballet dancer,friend of an ex-girlfriend)

The only ones that i spoke to were Kim Wilde,Courtney Love("Hey, Cool Dog") and Darcey Bussell. My dog wasn't really a britpop fan but hey,a biscuit is a biscuit.
topical p.s He shared fish and chips with Merv Hughes.

...gave Neil Hannon a big hug. He was tiny and I thought I might break him.

Which isn't quite as good as my mothers story of partying with the Rolling Stones when she was 18 and dancing with Mick, is it?

Brian Jones was "really creepy and off his head on drugs" apparently.

And I ended up talking to Cleo Rocos backstage at the University Of Manchester's Solem Bar. She was tiny, heartstoppingly pretty and curvaceous in a positively indecent manner and fobbed off my piteous attempts to cop off with her using such charming grace that I would still, to this day, crawl fifty miles over broken glass for the mere chance of wanking on her shadow.

The last sentence of Lenny's missive is poetry of the highest order - I think Sheev should post this for the second virtual meeting of the Sounds of Young Islington book group. Like Robert Frost that, Len

June Brown cupped my face
Albert Finney linked arms with me down some stairs

There's more, but it's my job to deal with celebs so I'm constantly touching and being touched by them. But these are my favourites.

drank a glass of Whiskey with Norman Mailer and drank beer with Jeff Buckley

..told me to f*** off.

I was actually really chuffed that he turned out to be a bit cantankerous, somehow if he had been the cheerful soul of the party I would have been a bit disappointed.

Mark Ellen walked past me while I was sitting watching Tinariwen at Glastonbury once. OK, about two weeks ago.

I shared a hotel bed with Debbie Harry one sunkissed day in 2007.

can you separate two life peaks?

Then again, Su Pollard kissed me on the cheek.

I went to California a few times on holiday in the 90's. I'd always collect a case full of CD's and vinyl, and would agonise on the flight back whether to run the gaunlet of the green channel, or bottle out and pay my dues in the red channel.

Coming back one year, so laden was I that I decided the red channel was a must, and took my place in the queue behind a guy with several guitars on a trolley. I thought he looked vaugely familiar but couldn't place him - I'm pretty crap at recognising people. However the mystery was resolved when we both went to pay what we owed and the customs man swapped our credit cards over. There in my hot little hand was Paul Rodgers Amex card. He seemed not to have noticed the switch. For a brief moment I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just go and tap him on shoulder, I mean he's Paul Rodgers, Mr Allright Now, the voice of Wrigleys Spearmint gum. Lucklily the FPO took charge and accosted him. Big grins all round, cards exchanged and off we went.

About 2 years later, I'm in LA again and Paul is on at the Troubador. I get tickets and enjoy 2 great shows. Next day I'm at Venice beach browsing the racks of fake designer sunglasses when I bump into a guy. We both look round, apologising - and there he is again. My celebrity stalker! Having had 2 years of taunting from the FPO on how gormeless I'd been last time we met, I managed to blurt out that I'd seen the shows and enjoyed them. He thanked me and once again we went our seperate ways. The FPO had witnessed the whole thing, so that would put her straight. Or so I thought. But then all I got was "why didn't you get hm to sign the tickets", "you carry that camera around for 2 weeks and then don't ask him for a picture".

I suppose it was then that I knew what I had to do. Not long after that I put in for a transfer to a new FPO. And I like to think that Mr Rodgers helped show me the way...

Many years ago I used to teach English to foreign students. One 16 year-old told me she was going up Manchester for the weekend to meet Take That.

I was surprised at this but said nothing. Come Monday morning, I asked how it had gone.

"Great," she said. "Jason Orange spoke to me."

"Wow, what did he say?" I inquired.

"He said get the fuck out of my garden!"