I very much upset somebody who is now in EastEnders. He had a temporary job where I had worked for four years and was a) shit at it, b) shit at it, c) an utter cock and d) incapable of acting like a normal human being. Didn't have a clue who he was when he started, as I've never watched soap operas (he'd been in another one previously).
The context was that I am known for being lovely - kind, patient, tactful, always professional, etc, etc. Being a fat old bird with big eyes, fluffy hair and a soft voice probably helps this impression.
He'd dumped his puffa coat and bag that probably contained his morning's supply of cocaine going by his severe winter hayfever symptoms in the doorway of my office. Whilst he was relaxing in my chair being a fucking bone idle cunt and ignoring my polite request to put his bag somewhere else as I could obviously see where it is and therefore I could step over it, I'd been working non stop hefting a load of gear to and fro and on the last pass, my foot caught in his bagstrap and I nearly went arse over tit whilst carrying some very heavy and expensive equipment.
I hoyed his bag across the corridor with a steel toecapped size 6 in the process of not faceplanting into lumps of metal with pointy edges and he went ballistic at me, stomping right up, shoulders squared - full on standard male intimidation tactics.
Extra context: I've dealt with six foot five and fifteen stone of 'roid raging ex and (just about) lived to tell the tale. This person is significantly smaller than that.
As he attempted to do the big, dramatic toe to toe shit that I'd seen him do to others (always, always much smaller than him) when he thought nobody was looking, I turned away. Naturally, I got the 'Oi! I'm talking to you!' bollocks. So I turned my head back - slowly - and spoke to him. Very calm, very measured and very, very much like my grandmother's perfectly clipped Voice of Imminent Destruction, which I seem to instinctively adopt whenever I am irked.
I told him, in perfectly enunciated, crisp syllables, that if he thought for one second that I was in any way, shape or form, impressed or intimidated by a little boy trying to be the Big Man, he was sorely mistaken and that I had asked him repeatedly to move his fucking shit out of my fucking way.
Apparently, because he was famous, he was going to get me fired. I was disrespecting and threatening him, he was somebody, he 'knew people'.
I asked whether this was before or after I spoke to the boss officially about the amount of cocaine he was clearly consuming on the premises and whether he thought that would go down well if anybody were to find out about in, considering the nature of the work he was employed to undertake. And whether he really thought that anybody would believe that I had been such a good actor for so many years until he came along.
He was going to tell the boss that I'd been physically aggressive towards him. What, right under these cameras?
I waited for a reply. He stormed off to sulk in a corner somewhere, whilst I picked his bag up and put it somewhere safe stamping all over it once out of camera range.
A colleague then emerged from behind the door where he'd been listening to all of this. He thought this person was an utter cock as well, and had stayed there initially in case he was needed, but had remained to 'enjoy the evisceration'. and where the devil did that voice come from, Mitz
If you're ever so unfortunate as to see him being an utter cock on TV, be assured, he isn't that good an actor - that is exactly who he is.