Celebrity Stalker

So, Lee and I are standing in Club Exit, in Cardiff (imagine a village hall with a light-up dancefloor).

We are watching the glum Chris Martin, in Coldplay's video of Fix You.

Lee stiffens. "That man" he said, putting down his sherry carefully "is outside my house. Creepy."

The shot changes. "Oh," I say, "Now he's stood outside my house."

Lee turns to me, chilled. "We are being stalked by Chris Martin."

In a glimmer of video editing, he's jumped back from Euston to London Bridge. And yet Chris Martin is still dressed like he's on his way to work at TK Maxx.

There's another cut, and Chris is standing by a delapidated archway. "Hmmm," said Lee, "if I'm not mistaken, he's now outside the exit of Pleasuredrome Gentleman's Sauna. I'd be worried."

And with that, Lee heads for the dance floor, stepping nimbly over a discarded pair of heels. "Oh look," he says, "the two men you fancied have got off with each other."