My run-in with Hugh Grant
Hugh Grant, self-confessed grump and Fourth Estate muzzler, was at a drinks party I went to the other day in his old stomping ground of Notting Hill. It happened to be the day after he went to Makerfield to lend Andy Burnham his support. Grant was doing his occasional ‘man of the people’ act (Latymer Upper; New College, Oxford), having attached himself barnacle-like to the next PM in the apparent belief that Burnham will one day tame the wicked Murdoch/Rothermere press. How naive is that? Anyway, I went up to him and said: ‘Oh, you turned up in my husband’s old constituency as well, and it was the absolute kiss of death.’ He looked mildly amused. ‘You lost then?’ ‘No, we won it outright. So, thank you.
