IT WAS a hair appointment I won't be forgetting anytime soon. When I was leaving a Beverly Hills salon last week, I ran into Britney Spears.
As I stood in the driveway behind the salon, waiting for the valet to bring my car (yes, I'm sorry to report that in car park-challenged La-la land, even getting a haircut requires a girl to valet), I was almost knocked over by a tidal wave of about 40 paparazzi who rushed from a side street as Britney's luxury 4WD pulled up next to me.
Within seconds, a group of photographers and videographers poured with tsunami-like force into the salon's private driveway, wildly jostling for position around her super-sized cream car and almost knocking me over in the unruly scrum.
I was forced to duck and weave wildly as clenched fists and heavy cameras - wielded like weapons - came within millimetres of my head...........
As I stood in the driveway behind the salon, waiting for the valet to bring my car (yes, I'm sorry to report that in car park-challenged La-la land, even getting a haircut requires a girl to valet), I was almost knocked over by a tidal wave of about 40 paparazzi who rushed from a side street as Britney's luxury 4WD pulled up next to me.
Within seconds, a group of photographers and videographers poured with tsunami-like force into the salon's private driveway, wildly jostling for position around her super-sized cream car and almost knocking me over in the unruly scrum.
I was forced to duck and weave wildly as clenched fists and heavy cameras - wielded like weapons - came within millimetres of my head...........
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