A car pulls up outside the Village Pub.
“Isn’t that…?” wonders Short Tony, a look of recognition alighting on his face.
Being a person with a leading web log, I am well up on the modern media. “It is the man from ‘Vicar of Dibley’ who goes ‘no no no no yes,’” I confirm.
A celebrity!!! Visiting our humble Village Pub!!! The news spreads. A frisson runs through the bar. (I actually have no idea what a frisson is aside from the fact that one usually appears at times like this – I imagine it is small and scuttles, like a weasel). As the door opens, everybody adopts a forced nonchalance so as not to make our guest feel awkward. Some people have such a forced nonchalance that they rush up to him, presumably to ask if he is the man that goes ‘no no no no yes’ from ‘Vicar of Dibley’, just to make sure.
It seems unnecessary. I know there are people (like Michael Jackson the King of Pop) who have changed their face to look like other people (Liz Taylor), but I think it would be an unusual fetish indeed to repeatedly visit shady plastic surgeons in order to gradually reshape your features so that you look exactly like the man who goes ‘no no no no yes’ from ‘Vicar of Dibley’.
It is ascertained that he is indeed the man that goes ‘no no no no yes’ from ‘Vicar of Dibley’ and not an impostor. He stands, waylaid, at the door to the main bar.
“I’d really like to talk to him,” I whisper. “Just to check an anecdote. An old friend of mine always told this story that he was on jury service with him, and the other eleven elected him foreman just so that when the judge asked if…”
“Another pint?” interjects the Chipper Barman.
“Definitely,” I reply. In a low voice: “Do you see who that is?”
“It’s the bloke from the Vicar of Dibley. Who goes ‘no no no yes’. He was in here earlier.”
“Oh,” I say, a bit disappointed.
“I’ve got my camera phone,” whispers Short Tony. “Do you think I could get a picture without anybody noticing?”
We experiment with different techniques, pretending to take a picture of me but holding the phone the wrong way round, taking a photo of the big mirror at the end of the bar, etc. But we can’t get the angle. Short Tony puts his camera away in disappointment and frustration. The man who goes ‘no no no no yes’ from ‘Vicar of Dibley’ finally frees himself, and wanders through to the back of the Pub towards the restaurant.
Mrs Short Tony arrives in the bar, fresh from the Chinese Pub, our takeaway waiting in the car.
“But there’s a celebrity in here!” I protest.
Short Tony narrows his eyes and lowers his voice. “It’s… Cruise,” he hisses.
Mrs Short Tony is momentarily flustered and bewildered.
“Not really,” he reveals. “It is the bloke from ‘Vicar of Dibley’ who goes ‘no no no no yes.’”
“Come on home then. The food’s getting cold.”