Meeting a Hero

Despite someone with my name (first name only, how Madonna-esque) on the VIP list, I failed to convince the organisers of BBC Two’s Heroes soiree that I was actually that particular girl. Happily, I eventually managed to get in on my own credentials, albeit with a hand-scribbled badge that had everyone staring at my chest the entire evening. And I’m sure glad that I did (not because of the chest-staring).

Not only was the event held in one of the most stunning buildings in London – The Gherkin – which resembles the depths of Torchwood on the inside, but the cast of Heroes turned out to be intelligent and entertaining for the most part (forgive me for sounding surprised, but I have been to a few of these things now and it was refreshing to hear some spiky, if probably well-rehearsed, spiel - even getting a bit political at one point. My Greenpeace heart was touched.).

After we had cleared the CIA-worthy security procedure (and commented wryly on the dirty glass) the cast fielded questions from journos from publications as diverse as The Guardian to Holy Moly to an apparently very philosophical Polish women’s magazine - no-one could understand that one's questions.

Some of my favourite moments:

Q: What superpower would be best for an American politician?
A: A brain.

Q: Do you find your new status as a sex symbol flattering or creepy?
A: I think it’s smart to find it flattering.

Q: What super power would you like in real life? (insert groan from audience)
A: (From a guy who was on Dynasty in the 80s): I used to think being invisible would be cool, but then I was invisible through most of the 90s, and it wasn't so nice.

At the inevitable drinks I was rather embarrassed to see most journalists trying to get their picture taken with the actors despite pleas from BBC staff to remember the actors were off duty. It was a bit cringy - especially since I had to keep reminding myself 'It's only a tv show for chrissakes, it's not like they've saved the planet'.

I retreated to a corner and attempted to chat to Swedish journalists until I got up the nerve to tell Adrian Pasdar (who plays Nathan Petrelli on the show) that I liked a show he was in years ago - and I mean years, that I think no-one else in the world watched.

Turns out, I was in good company - he said 'Oh yeah, my mum really liked that show too!' I wish at the time I had've known that Pasdar had overcome an accident that threatened his ability to walk, had cut off his thumb accidentally and used the money to put himself through acting school, and is married to a Dixie Chick - I would have had a lot more to say. As it was, after a few vinos, I ended up just chatting about David Duchovny. Suddenly, a bevy of blondes began bearing down on him. I like to think we were both scared.

I turned to go, but Adrian (we're on first name terms now you see) held off the blondes for a second, and reached out and grabbed my arm. 'Hey - thank you,' he said. I turned to go. My work here was done.

In other news, even though now I'm kind of more inspired to move into the production side of things, I am shortlisted to perhaps becoming a REAL entertainment reporter (yes, my life becomes more Bridget Jones by the minute). On the other hand, it's possible I could go back to my beloved Sweden and Greenpeace. I am pretty confused, but just riding this out for a while. I think it's the only way to go right now.

[Photo is copyright BBC]