This evening at approximately 18:06, I received a cryptic text from a strictly anonymous source, the details of which read, "Nooo! Nicolo from X Factor is stood outside TopShop!!!" The "Nooo!" part, was reference to the fact that the afore mentioned anonymous source had just said goodbye to me in TopShop to return to Headquarters. I was still inside. I did not receive this text until I was half way down Oxford Street, therefore missing the event altogether. I was devestated. I believe the words that came out of my mouth were somewhere along the lines of, "Oh my God, I'm going to kill myself! It's all your [other friends who were dragging me places I had no interest in going] fault! I HATE YOU ALL!" This tyrade of abuse, that was not only embarrassing my friends but also making me look like a mental patient on day release, was quickly and abruptly interrupted by an un-named witness. "Alice! Calm down, look! He's there!" And to my astonishment, there before me stood one Nicolo Festa, Italian mad man, X Factor legend, and my 4th favourite...
At this moment, I think my friends were expecting me to freak out with some sort of cringey squeel worthy of a 13 year old Bieber fan and then quickly move on, phoning everyone I know on the way to the next destination on our tour of Oxford Street. Therefore, when I began to route in my bag, they looked puzzled.
Please do not judge me when I say that I carry, at all times, a camera and the Jude Law Sharpie (named so as King Jude Law VI himself once used it). My explanation of this is simple: if I bump into Michael Buble on the street, I want to be prepared, know what I'm sayin'? "No! You cannot ask for his picture!" But I did. Sadly, my camera has remained in my bag, unused (despite having had quite a run of celebrity spotting including HRH Geri Halliwell), for so long, that it had no battery. I almost smashed it to the ground in rage. But then I remembered that it is no longer 1997 and mobile phones, including mine, now feature all kinds of high-tech insanity, including cameras.
Now, I believe, somewhere in history, that it was once said that a picture speaks a thousand words. Voila!
I once more beg of you not to judge me for my appearance, I usually look normal. It was a long, long day and I had just been under the impression that my life could have ended by missing Nicolo the Great of X Factor Fame. Imagine the trauma...
Of course, I was so overwhelmed by his celebrity that I failed to ask him any questions that I would have liked answered. Is Simon Cowell looking to adopt any 19 year old girls? Are One Direction really all 12 or is it just a voting ploy? How long does it take Mary to put on her fat suit? You know, deep investigative stuff. All I managed was, "Nicolo, I love you. I can't believe you got voted out on Saturday, it wasn't fair. I love you. You were my favourite. I love you. Would you mind taking a picture? Oh... that one's blurred, can I have another?" Of course, he wasn't my favourite, but he didn't need to know that. I did have to restrain from stroking his beautiful face, mainly as it was an inch thick with make-up as they had apparently been on This Morning this morning. Oh, I forgot to mention that he was with the chubby gay one with the pinky ring and the 27 year old guy with 2 kids that blates thought he was getting through and always wore a trilby, both of whom got to Dannii's house. They were also with Lloyd Daniels off of last year's show. Random. But no one cares about them. Anyway, Nicolo was so lovely and wished me a nice day on our departure. And so pretty! So so so pretty! And taller than I thought he would be. Slash, I don't think I've ever seen anyone love the attention so much, it was hilarious, but of course, totally justified.
And there is my tale. The End.
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