tara reid

Other famous pals who were always welcome included one of the most beautiful creatures on earth, the enchanting and hugely talented Anna Friel, the rebel-rousing tour de force that is Ray Winstone and even the surprisingly open minded Ms Dannii Minogue.

Then there were the odd curve balls; for instance the six weeks during which the criminally handsome American actor Aaron Eckhart came to stay after turning up unannounced on the doorstep one evening. He claimed his agent had given him my address as his place of residence whilst he was filming his latest motion picture on location in London.

To this day I have no idea what he or his agent were talking about but no matter, I was more than happy to have another interesting, energetic and colourful character around, so I let him stay on the top floor. By the way, if you really want to know how American film stars stay so thin I can tell you; they simply don’t eat – anything – ever. Aaron just smoked Marlboro Lights cigarettes – that’s all he ever did; I never once saw a single morsel of food in his fridge. It was as clean and empty the day he left as it was the day it came out of the factory. How he had the energy just to stand up every day, let alone go and look beefy and gorgeous in front of a film camera, I have no idea.

My best guest story from the Wilton years is, however, reserved for Tara Reid, American film star and all-round Hollywood babe. Tara was over in Britain to publicise the first of the American Pie movie trilogy, her first port of call, luckily for us, being an appearance on TFI Friday. Just how lucky I would get, though, I couldn’t possibly have imagined.

Tara was part of a three-pronged publicity assault on the UK’s media, along with her two co-stars, Jason Biggs and the really good-looking tall guy – you remember, the one who was a bit too nice for his own good and a bit wet generally. I’d already seen American Pie at a pre-screening, along with some of the production team before the stars were due to come on our show. We were all very much in agreement that the film was going to be a smash as it encapsulated the spirit of our times, very zeitgeisty. The Graduate of its day. In fact we were so convinced of its success that we declared that week’s TFI the American Pie Special.

Now, here’s the thing. Americans are really good when it comes to appearing on chat shows; they consider it a part of their job. Sell, sell, sell is the order of the day and absolutely right, too. Their attitude is, ‘We’ve worked bloody hard to make the product, we might as well finish the job off and get as many people to go and see the damn thing as possible.’ They also know it doesn’t hurt to put in a few sharp performances in the interview chair in case any movie directors may be tuning in with thoughts about whom to cast as their next star.

This, I’m sorry to say, is the opposite of a lot of UK artists, who consider the interview circuit a bind that is beneath them and will do anything they can to get out of any such commitment – or at least get it over with as soon as possible, while looking awkward and uncomfortable throughout. Sell, sell, sell you fools and don’t worry so much about what we might think of the real you. Alright, you’ll never be as articulate as you are when reading from those wonderful scripts you’re given, but we know that and it’s OK, so lighten up.

It was no surprise, then, that the three young stars of what was to become a worldwide hit, not to mention a three picture multi-million-dollar franchise, turned out to be a chat-show host’s dream. They were charming, funny, sweet, cheeky and oh so positive, another American trait which we need to adopt. In short I couldn’t have asked for more, but here’s another thing, I wasn’t going to have to – more was going to ask for me.

Along with Shannon Elizabeth, the actress who played the ridiculously hot Russian exchange student (surely no girl on earth has been that hot in real life – have they?), Tara Reid was the chief totty in the hippest flick of the summer.

After TFI was over, I almost always followed the same routine. I ran downstairs to my dressing room where I would get changed as quickly as I could and remove my slap with a couple of wet wipes whilst having a quick debrief with the producers and our writer, Danny Baker. Following this, we would go en masse back upstairs to the bar, or across the road to the pub.

This week had been declared a pub week. So there I was, walking down the corridor leading to the stage door, the corridor where all the dressing rooms were. As I neared the stage door, I heard what sounded like an American female calling my name. I stopped and turned around. ‘Hello, did somebody call me?’ I shouted back down the busy thoroughfare.

A moment later, the blonde bob of Ms Reid swung round her dressing-room door.

‘Hey, Chris. It was me, Tara.’
‘Hi Tara,’ I replied. ‘What can I do for you?’

Note to reader: Alright now, calm down and listen up because this next bit really did happen – you have to believe me. I promise I wouldn’t bother wasting your time, and mine, writing about it, if it did not. This is exactly what Tara said next.

‘Do you know any good pubs that might be fun to go to?’
As you can probably imagine, upon hearing this, I had to check to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating and hadn’t died and gone to heaven.
‘Excuse me?’ I said, just to make sure.
‘Do you know where there are any good, fun pubs?’ No, this was definitely real. Tara Reid was really saying these words out loud and to me.
And there was more.
‘The boys want to go to a restaurant but I’m not into that. Perhaps you could show me a few – if you’re not busy that is.’
Here’s what the voice in my head said next.
‘WHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?’

The thing is, as I have already mentioned at some length, pubs were my thing. I knew some of the best in the land and, as a result of several years of enthusiastic hanging out in such establishments, was a welcome patron in all of them.
Here’s what I actually said whilst attempting to stifle my excitement.

‘Tara, if you want pubs, you’ve come to the right man. I am Mr Pub. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. I’ll give you all the pubs, drinks, stories and characters that go with them.’
‘Really?’ she said.
‘Really really,’ I nodded.
‘Oh my goodness, that’s so exciting, that’s so sweet of you. Can you wait five minutes?’
‘Tara, to take you to the pub I would happily wait several years.’ I didn’t actually say this, I’m nowhere near cool enough but it was what I was thinking. As it happened, I think I just smiled as if I had lost the ability to speak – which I had. The result of this situation was not one night with this minx of the movie world but the next three!
Yes, three nights and three days with Tara bloomin’ blinkin’ Reid.

Tara saw more of London’s pubs in the next seventy-two hours than I believe any US citizen has done before. We didn’t leave each other’s side until her car turned up to take her back to Heathrow airport on the Monday morning.

I swear the only piece of promotion Tara Reid ever did in Britain for the original American Pie movie was TFI Friday because having only arrived in the country a few hours before, she then went on the missing list for the rest of her engagements. I know because I was with her the whole time.

None of her publicists knew where she was and neither did her two co-stars, who continued the press junket in her absence.

And do you know? I’ve never heard from her since. Not a word, but that’s kind of perfect.

I do wonder, however, if she ever recalls the crazy pub crawl she embarked upon with the ginger-haired talk-show host over in London that time.

What do you reckon – probably not, eh?
Ha ha.
And no, we didn’t sleep together.