Every now and then at work we get a perk.

Tonight, Moonchild and I were rewarded for working our nuts off these past couple of months with tickets to the illustrious (ahem) Inside Soap Awards party, and whilst I was looking forward to the evening (despite the onset of a chest infection), MC was a little less enthused. Soap stars and celebrity obsession is not her thing and rightly so.

“Awww, come on, free booze and the chance to sit in a corner and gossip – what more could you ask for?”

So off we popped to the Atlantic.

When we got there the entrance was lined with Paparazzi. With no separate entrance for us mere mortals we let the higher echelons of the soap world in, evoked our dutch courage and entered the venue wedged in between some lesser known soap act actors. On making it to the door the hot man asked for our names. Visions of "your name's not down you're not coming in" riddled me with fear, but instead he smiled a huge toothy grin and welcomed us in.

"Is there an entrance for normal people?" I whispered

"Oh, as far as I'm concerned, everyone's normal."

I was so excited at the prospect of being in the same room as the Harmanator that I nearly peed my pants. I mean, this was a guy who along with Pacey from Dawson’s Creek, was on my fantasy shag list (you know, where you and your current squeeze agree on a couple of fantasy shags, who you’d never, ever meet, but if you did, you’d be allowed to shag?).

The biggest topic of discussion for us, aside from the 'fashion' on parade was whether or not these lesser celebs should be put on pedestals like this. I mean, sure you can understand people getting excited about meeting say Robert De Niro or Dame Judy Dench, or even the younger generation of Hollywood stars, but this?

This nations’s obsession with celebrity is staggering. But I think when it comes down to it, I think it is simply a form of escapism. Why worry about your own life when you can buy a celeb gossip mag for a pound and read all about theirs?

We could have gone on for hours, but nonetheless it was a fun night. I sipped on a Queen Victoria (crushed fresh raspberries, passion fruit and peach juice, crushed ice and a shot of vodka), whilst MC had the White Loft Cosmopolitan. And for once I remained sober and didn’t make a tit of myself on the dance floor.

And it was really refreshing to see that while some of the so called starlets were absolute wankers, some of them were really down to earth.

Standing in the queue in the ladies was a real eye opener, everyone was so much smaller in real life. Bex from Casualty, dressed to kill, came over to me just as I was about to step into a cubicle which looked flooded, announcing

“Oh it’s really minging in there, here have a bog roll”

And when Leanne from Corrie couldn’t figure out how to get into one of the cubicles, she laughed and said to me

“All right love? I got a bit confused for a moment with all of those mirrors.”

Seems they are just people after all.

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