Russell Brand

By Producer Jack

And so our latest foray in the land of plenty came to a close, and whilst we have cherished the opportunity I have to admit there is relief with the absence of abundance. Somehow back in London I am again in the comfort of the journey rather than the confusing final destination that is Hollywood.

During our latest trip, much to the dismay of Russell I revealed my half-baked future plan for a vegetarian pie shop brilliantly (I alone think) called ‘Jack’s Meatless Pies’. Whilst this is a genuine ambition, I think the announcement came partly out of an innate resistance to our lavish surroundings. Not that this is any slight on our ambition; it’s just that Hollywood can sometimes be very blatant in its belief that happiness is financial.

Fitting then that this last trip should conclude with an Independence Day white themed party hosted by Puff Daddy at the biggest plot of real estate in Los Angeles. I wonder what our simian ancestors would have made of such a humble do? “Well I guess now we’re warm and fed, and you my missus are impregnated – why not us invest in a completely new and pointless outfit we’ll literally wear once?”

Please don’t for a minute think I am not grateful for such mind-boggling opportunities because of course I am. It’s just that I wonder if the aspiration for such riches, the drive to achieve them is actually a more solid foundation than the accomplishment.

Prior to the party there was debate in the camp over attendance, all of us nervous and excited in equal amounts. The decision was finally made when Russell arrived home with an outfit of such glory that had the suit itself not been present then gossip columns the world over would have buzzed at the no show. Also, Russell ‘Black’ Brand in all white? That’s comparable to Dylan going electric. Sort of.

Once the decision was made there was the kind of excitement you get when everyone properly commits to a fancy dress. I assume the white theme is intended to inject prestige and glamour into the event, which it certainly achieved with the ladies. For the gentlemen unfortunately it almost has a reverse affect acting as a leveller – like a compulsory hip hop school uniform.

Having mentioned the party since, it seems people are most interested in the other attendees. Understandable. But, to be quite honest I was so taken with the revolving dance floor and free Sean Combs endorsed vodka that I barely spoke to anyone. Apart from this bald guy who told me he once lived in Kent, that I later found out was Billy Zane. Lovely chap, although I still wonder about the cream cake he held throughout our chat that neither of us referenced.

I also had a brief exchange with someone I later found out to be model Amber Rose. Foolishly I thought her shaven head and alien beauty were recognisable only by me, and not her current squeeze Kanye West. Somehow when you haven’t got a clue who someone is, you unintentionally maintain a carefree attitude that you’d clumsily kick over if you were aware of their stature. Unfortunately I didn’t quite get to the meatless pie plan, which I’m sure would have been a clincher.

Back on the dance floor Puff remained on the microphone almost constantly – part rapping, part weirdly commentating on the party. At times I had flashes of street corners in Bedford Stuy with Biggie – hands in the air goose bump stuff, at other times it was like a local mobile dj rambling over a cherished wedding.

Ultimately though, you have to give it to him, he knows how to throw a party and clearly he doesn’t mind spreading his wealth. Which if you have it is surely the best thing that you can do. Now that I have commended him perhaps there will be an American franchise to ‘Jack’s Meatless Pies’ that we can call ‘Puff’s Pastries.’

Posted in Diary, USA