I keep getting flashbacks of various events and actions from yesterday. Like being the entire moshpit during an outstanding (dress run) performance from The Killers which nobody else seemed to be paying attention to. Losing my artist 10 minutes before they were due on live national television. In fact, losing my artist several times over the course of the massive 18 hours I worked. Adopting various other acts on my travels when their escorts were nowhere to be found. Terrifying Julian Barratt with a request to touch him. Gaining the unending adoration of Mel out of Mel'n'Sue by finding her fizzy water. Ordering Tim Vine to pull a "more comedy" face for a photo. Receiving a charity challenge that nobody thought I could manage...suckers, that's £50 please, and here's a photo of me in physical union with The Doctor himself, taken by Catherine Tate (you underestimate my cojones).

Then it starts to get slightly hazy, as I was given wine once the serious bit of my artist's task was over – classily carried within a Coke can, just in case I got in bother. I recall fetching beer, acquiring two famous television presenters to look after, setting up a little party in a dressing room with vodka, going to fetch mixers and coincidentally catching the worshipful comedy duo (meeting whom was my main ambition for the day) and happening to invite them to the vodka thing (hope my artist didn't mind; actually I don't care, was way past caring by this point). And resultingly ending up hanging with the worshipful duo at the big wrap party. Wish I could remember what the hell I said. I recall "humble" and "I love you", but not much more in depth. I remember being shouted at for wanting to look after them (runner mode/maternal instinct wouldn't shut down). Glad they were lovely; I would've been so upset if they'd been gits.