Ross Noble was in Cardiff today, filming for some mystery TV show* to be aired on Dave in autumn. He tweeted that he was in Cardiff Bay and needed something to do, and I was just about to head over there to see if I could squeeze a new thing out of it when Hazel came downstairs, vaguely frantic, and said "Ross Noble and a film crew are on their way to our house." Further probing revealed that they were coming because they wanted our large bag of custard, and that they didn't know our house number - just our street name.
We figured our best bet would be to look out for them, so we sat on Chris' windowsills and waited. and waited. After a while, just when I was starting to think that my new thing for the day was going to be being stood up by Ross Noble, we noticed a bloke with long, curly hair riding a motorbike up and down our road. I headed outside to check, and he tentatively stopped outside and removed his helmet.
"are you the girl who tweeted?", he asked me.
"you're here for the custard?" I replied.
"you're here for the custard?" I replied.
I imagine this conversation may have been confusing for any listening passers-by.
Ross appraised our bag of custard powder, judged it to be "great!", and then told us that we had to go back inside so that the crew could film him knocking at our door. Once inside, Hazel and I both sank to the floor and whimpered. "What have we done?", we asked ourselves. "this is terrible. Ross Noble and a TV crew are coming in to our house and our christmas tree is still up. What have we done?!"
Still. He knocked. There were handshakes. "I haven't been in a student house for years," he told us, as soon as he clocked the leopard print throws. A large amount of people crammed in to our tiny, tiny living room. The camera man tried to back up and almost knocked our TV over.
We traded our sack of custard for a "genuine piece of TV history" (a teapot), Ross kicked some snails around in our back garden, waved a fourteen-inch rubber fist from his trip to a "sex toy emporium" the previous day at our neighbours over the fence ("sorry, sorry!"), I somehow found myself having a discussion of sexism in doctor who with him while he broke our cardboard dalek, and he headed out with the custard strapped to the back of his bike.
about half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. One of the production team appeared. "We were just wondering whether you wanted some money for your time?" she said, and then handed us £30. So here I am, eating takeaway dessert paid for by Team Ross Noble and staring at a muddy, paint-y teapot. I'm pretty okay with the way this has gone.
g'night, folks.
New Thing: have Ross Noble and a TV Crew invade our house.
*I'm not sure whether anything filmed here will make it into the show, but - twitter seems to indicate that the show is called "Ross Noble Freewheels", so - keep your eyes peeled for that, y'all.
