By Stuart Bradley
It was one of those nights. You know the ones I mean – the ones where you’re not exactly sure where you went and what you did, but you know you had fun and didn’t do anything too heinous. It had also been a date night, and at 1 AM the date in question was still hanging on my arm, so I guess it couldn’t have been a total failure; that’s when a guy comes up to us, with a friend behind him videotaping the proceedings and another holding a box. ‘Oh great,’ I think, ‘am I about to get happyslapped? Isn’t that too 2005 to be happening in Shoreditch!?’ The stranger then pulls a book out of the box and cheerfully asks us our names. ‘I’m Stu, and this is Sarah’ I reply, still completely unaware of what’s going on. ‘Right, to Stu and Sarah’ he mumbles, scribbling away in the front of the book.
I lean forward to sneak a peek at the front cover of the book and read aloud the words in an alcohol-induced slur – ‘Da-nny Wa-llace’. I look back up at the man and, after a beat, I repeat the words. ‘Danny Wallace.’ The man cheerfully replies, ‘Yup, that’s me!’, because he IS in fact Danny Wallace. He thanks us for coming out, and as quickly as the group arrived, they disappear into the night as Danny half turns around and shouts ‘guerrilla urban book signings, definitely the way forward!’ I turn to my date and say ‘Danny Wallace. That was Danny Wallace.’ ‘Yeah,’ she replies. ‘I figured’.
When I wake the next morning, the events of last night start to seep back into my mind. I half remember Danny Wallace giving me a free signed book at 1 AM in some random street. Must have been a dream, I figure. But there’s a book on the floor. And wouldn’t you know who’s on the front? Danny Wallace.
Only in Shoreditch.
Stuart Bradley is a ‘twentysomething freelance writer, startup marketer, DJ, guitarist, skramz fan, and designer’.