Cannes: home of films and alcohol and waving. I arrived in Nice on Thursday, having traveled on a plane full of festival types who all spoke in loud voices and seemed to know each other. It was like being the new kid on a school trip full of olds. Several of them approached me later that night at the How To Lose Friends party and informed me that they had seen me on their plane, to whit I responded with gratitude for their had been a nasty rumor that I had been spotted in Aberystwyth, fingering a goat. More about the party later.

I left Minnie with my Mum on Thursday morning. She generously agreed to make the trip from Gloucester to dog-sit after I realized my Cannes trip was going to clash with Maureen taking her dad to NYC for his birthday. I kissed them both on the head and took off for Heathrow Airport, got on board the movie express and hit the Riviera some forty mins after landing in Nice. This was actually my first Cannes and it didn't disappoint. It's essentially half a mile of seafront promenade, parallel to which stands the usual beachfront mix of shops and hotels. Most of the latter are adorned with displays advertising various films, the majority of which are not being screened at the festival. The best was the Indiana Jones themed entrance to one of the big Hotels. I meant to take a pic but I forgot. I actually only took one picture while I was there, which was of me with Morgan Spurlock at the HTLF party.

Me with Morgan Spurlock at the HTLF party

More of that later. I arrived at the Martinez Hotel to find it besieged by people and photographers, who turned out to be hanging around on the off chance that they might see someone famous. Nobody noticed me arrive, despite me wearing my Shaun Of The Dead costume and knocking the Concierge out with a cricket bat.

I got in to my room, dumped my stuff and took off for the Croisette. The sun had decided to show a reluctant face and my forty minute stroll turned out to be quite pleasant. I had an ice cream and a pizza and a coke and consumed the rich visual display of festival life which had a mentally nutritional value relative to the ice cream, the pizza and the coke. As far as I could make out everybody was looking around for people looking at things in case they were looking at something interesting. The street was populated by tourists, festival goers, bouncers, costumed types and homeless people and required lively navigation. Before long, I was back in my hotel room, necking my complimentary Champers and waiting for the right moment to pull on the Miu Miu suit again and eff off out for the night's festivities. First stop was a restaurant chosen by our producer Stephen Woolley, where we hooked up with Stephen, Toby Young (who I sort of play in the movie), Stephen's lovely wife Liz, Gillian Anderson and her fella and a couple of their mates. Dinner was le scrummy; I had the Fois Gras followed by duck. Toby had frog's legs which freaked everybody out when he got up to go to the toilet. Ha ha ha ha ha do you get it? I am so funny!! At about ten o'clock we took off for the party. Basically, despite the film's release not being for another five months, Intandem, the distribution company, thought it might be fun to initiate the buzz with a bash. They got together with GQ and a Russian vodka company and threw a beano in our honor at a swanky location just out of town. I endured the inevitable press line and posed for photos with my good buddy Gillian (hilarious considering my public history of adoration for her) before we breached the soireeus membranus. Once inside, it was free vodka all round and before long the joint was jumping like an absolute mofo, effortlessly securing its* position as the hot ticket for night deux of the festival.

The first person I saw as I entered was the irrepressible Lily Allen, to whom I owe a debt of thanks. Later that evening, she left the party distinctly merry and was photographed by the paparazzi for being as such. The next day the story hit most of the papers (Young Person Has Fun At Party, stop the press!) and so the 'do' and the film got a lot of mentions, which I guess is why the party got thrown in the first place. It's funny to see Lily doing so well and commanding such attention, I've known her since she was thirteen, due to her being Nira's step daughter for a time. Her brother Alfie (the eponymous hero of one of the best tracks on Alright, Still) is actually in Spaced as one of Tim's diminutive skate pals, as is her her father Keith, who plays the evil stepdad chasing the younger Tim through the maze in E5S1. Small world huh?

The rest of the night was pretty standard; responsible drinking combined with various conversations, some interesting, some unwanted, all shouted over the impressive Hot Girls Playing Electric String Instruments A Bit Like Bond But Not entertainment. I was disappointed not to get to chat with Mischa Barton who I wanted to apologize to, after a story appeared in the press, shortly after the National Movie Awards that claimed that me and Nick had made fun of her. We hadn't and most certainly wouldn't. We have an affection for the OC because Shaun Of The Dead got an honorable mention in Season 2 and lest we forget she was the creepy little puker in The 6th Sense, which in my book gives her real geek kudos. Also, she is pretty.

With a full day's press to follow, I ducked out reasonably early and went to bed. The next day, I was up first thing to do Entertainment Today for GMTV, followed by some fun and frolics with Steve and Maquita for T4 Sunday which was lots of fun. I really like those guys and always look forward to seeing their names on my press itinerary. After more interviews, I had a break then headed over to a beach bar for a press conference/clips presentation for the movie, which went hilariously awry when the dvd player broke down due to unprecedented rainfall. After the clips finally played out to a seemingly positive response, it was back to the interview treadmill for some round tables and a couple of face to faces. One of which was with my old pal, Chris Hewitt from Empire Magazine, whose festival blogs you can see over on Empire Online, including the interview with Toby, Stephen and myself. I must say, I really missed the presence of Bob Weide, who apparently, for reasons of travel cost, was not in attendance. Seemed an awful shame to me that the director was prevented from attending his own movie's presentation over the cost of a plane ticket. He was conspicuous by his absence which is almost as conspicuous as he is by his presence. We missed you Bobby Beee.

That evening we attended the Independent Film Awards bash at the Atrium Bar and I was hit up for advice and opportunity by several young film makers. When did I become the Yoda of British cinema? Good to chats though. There's a lot of very enthusiastic and capable people out there and I say "GO FOR IT" in an embarrassingly avuncular way, punching the air with my fist. After that party we went to dinner where I bumped into my American agent, who I didn't even realize was there. She was having dinner with a bunch of folk from CAA and ace producer Lawrence Bender, who I was very pleased to meet. Dinner digested, we hailed a minibus and gunned out of Cannes to a house party being hosted by music producer, Nellie Hooper at the residence of a Jordanian princess. Hooked up with Lily again and bumped into Hollywood wunderkind Shia Lebouef, who I got friendly with after the Disturbia/Hot Fuzz press tours crossed paths several times last year. I wished him luck with Indy and his imminent reconnection with Optimus and the gang for Transformers 2 which starts shooting in June. I really like Shia, he's great company and possesses considerable talent. I have a feeling he might do well.

After the party we headed back into Cannes, where Toby and myself tried to get into trouble but found there was none to get into. So we headed back to the Martinez for drinks. I crashed at about 4am, retiring to my room to drift off to the soothing sounds of the festival winding down and the couple in the room next to me turbo fucking. I'm glad I saved the earplugs from the Tokyo flight.

As I type I am in my car heading back home for a severe facial licking and of course to see Minnie (NB that joke would be funnier and less disturbing if Maureen was waiting for me, rather than my Mum).

*It has come to my attention that, after my Japanese blog, someone was kind enough to point out the correct usage (or absence thereof) of apostrophes when using the pronoun IT in the possessive form. To them I say, with a beaming and friendly smile, it was typo you effing smartass, I am well aware of the correct usage of possessive and abbreviative punctuation, my weakness is simply that I'm too lazy to prooof reed. Anyway, IT'S my blog and if I pepper ITS pages with grammatical inaccuracies then so, be, it?

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