I once spent an evening hanging out with Kayvan Novak, after he mistook me for someone else…
About 10 years ago, I was at a bar in central London, queuing for a drink. A tall, striking man walks up to the bar next to me, and I recognise him immediately (this was before Shadows obviously, but I’d seen Facejacker, and it was not long after his excellent performance in Inside No 9). He glances down at me, and a warm smile of recognition appears on his face. He says hi, asks how I’m doing, what am I up to these days - he’s doing every social trick to try to get me to say something that will reveal who I am, he’s clearly convinced that he knows me. I’ve never met him before, never even been in the same room as him, but I do work in the media, so I answer his questions honestly. To be clear, I’m very small-time, and have never worked on anything remotely as big as the sort of stuff he does, but the fact that I’m talking about media jobs convinces him that he must know me through work somehow, and our friendship is cemented.
We keep chatting; he’s so charming and affable, slipping effortlessly into little funny voices and impressions. He invites me over to his table to “meet the guys”, and heads over to a small booth in a dark back corner of the bar. I take a large drink for some courage, and walk over.
Kayvan is standing by the booth, and next to him, with a glass of wine balanced delicately between his fingers, is Reece Shearsmith. My new friend introduces me, and we begin chatting. I’ve basically left my body at this point, feeling like some kind of uncover agent who, while not technically lying about his identity, is surely to be rumbled as an imposter at any moment. Reece is equally lovely, with a dry and icy wit, and a slow deliberate way of talking that makes every word coming out of his mouth sound vitally important.
Next I’m introduced to Johnny Flynn, who’s very sweet, totally unpretentious and self-effacing. I gush over his music, telling him I’ve been a fan since I was a teenager. I show him an awkward selfie that I took with him at one of his first gigs in London. Kayvan delights in this, gleefully insisting that we recreate the picture, which is the one you can see at the top of this post. I’m just about holding it together at this point, desperately trying to act like I’m very used to hanging out with celebrities and am not some gawky fan who really shouldn’t have been allowed into this inner sanctum of fame.
And then I turn around, and come face to face with Martin McDonagh. I’m a huge fan of his, I’ve seen many of his plays, and In Bruges is one of my all-time favourite films. He’s outrageously tall, handsomely dishevelled in that very artistic way, and his eyes are intense and piercing, as if he’s staring right into your soul. At this point my mask of coolness slips, and I’m just straight up fan-boying all over him. HI NICE TO MEET YOU IN BRUGES IS MY FAVOURITE FILM EVER... etc. He’s bemused, but pleasant and welcoming. We talk very briefly. At this point I realise I’m not going to be able to keep up this facade any longer, and I say my goodnights and goodbyes, and slip away.
I happened to see Kayvan again outside a theatre a while later; as I was staring at him, he glanced at me, and then looked away. No recognition this time, the spell was broken. But I’ll never forget those few hours when I was his friend.
About 10 years ago, I was at a bar in central London, queuing for a drink. A tall, striking man walks up to the bar next to me, and I recognise him immediately (this was before Shadows obviously, but I’d seen Facejacker, and it was not long after his excellent performance in Inside No 9). He glances down at me, and a warm smile of recognition appears on his face. He says hi, asks how I’m doing, what am I up to these days - he’s doing every social trick to try to get me to say something that will reveal who I am, he’s clearly convinced that he knows me. I’ve never met him before, never even been in the same room as him, but I do work in the media, so I answer his questions honestly. To be clear, I’m very small-time, and have never worked on anything remotely as big as the sort of stuff he does, but the fact that I’m talking about media jobs convinces him that he must know me through work somehow, and our friendship is cemented.
We keep chatting; he’s so charming and affable, slipping effortlessly into little funny voices and impressions. He invites me over to his table to “meet the guys”, and heads over to a small booth in a dark back corner of the bar. I take a large drink for some courage, and walk over.
Kayvan is standing by the booth, and next to him, with a glass of wine balanced delicately between his fingers, is Reece Shearsmith. My new friend introduces me, and we begin chatting. I’ve basically left my body at this point, feeling like some kind of uncover agent who, while not technically lying about his identity, is surely to be rumbled as an imposter at any moment. Reece is equally lovely, with a dry and icy wit, and a slow deliberate way of talking that makes every word coming out of his mouth sound vitally important.
Next I’m introduced to Johnny Flynn, who’s very sweet, totally unpretentious and self-effacing. I gush over his music, telling him I’ve been a fan since I was a teenager. I show him an awkward selfie that I took with him at one of his first gigs in London. Kayvan delights in this, gleefully insisting that we recreate the picture, which is the one you can see at the top of this post. I’m just about holding it together at this point, desperately trying to act like I’m very used to hanging out with celebrities and am not some gawky fan who really shouldn’t have been allowed into this inner sanctum of fame.
And then I turn around, and come face to face with Martin McDonagh. I’m a huge fan of his, I’ve seen many of his plays, and In Bruges is one of my all-time favourite films. He’s outrageously tall, handsomely dishevelled in that very artistic way, and his eyes are intense and piercing, as if he’s staring right into your soul. At this point my mask of coolness slips, and I’m just straight up fan-boying all over him. HI NICE TO MEET YOU IN BRUGES IS MY FAVOURITE FILM EVER... etc. He’s bemused, but pleasant and welcoming. We talk very briefly. At this point I realise I’m not going to be able to keep up this facade any longer, and I say my goodnights and goodbyes, and slip away.
I happened to see Kayvan again outside a theatre a while later; as I was staring at him, he glanced at me, and then looked away. No recognition this time, the spell was broken. But I’ll never forget those few hours when I was his friend.