OK...so we know a lot of people have waited with fingers crossed for a long time to find out if we got a hold of Sir Richard Branson. And the answer is....
Yes! Richard found out about our adventure and we were also able to contact him through his personal email address that we had obtained as part of the whole odyssey. We emailed back and forth a few times and he set us up with meetings with his New York office.
As with Richard himself, everyone there was a class act. And we're not just saying that because we're interested in working with them. We would say that to you in the back room of a cocktail party. Seriously. Invite us to one and take us in the back. See what happens.
So, the main objective was to obtain contact with Richard Branson. Main mission accomplished. The secondary objective was to partner with Virgin on our still-secret business plan. And that's where the "it's good to be the Sir" comes in. While we had great meetings with Virgin, ultimately they consider ideas that would be reasonably expected to be at $200 million in revenue by the third year. Let's face it...we're good, but we're not that good. We'd love make it to $200 million in year three of the project, but really we had projected it out to $195 million....just missed it! Man, it must be nice to consider only projects that bring in that kind of money.
So...mission not accomplished for the second objective. However, the door was left open for a future partnership as part of one of the industries they are looking at. That's all we'll say about it for now, but maybe they'll be a future posting...all because of the principles of Branson or Bust.
One final note to Sir Richard. Thanks, indirectly, for the wild ride and a great adventure. And thanks, also indirectly, for an interesting airport experience (some folks at Virgin Atlantic caught wind of our antics as we asked to film/interview some of their employees. They politely declined so we did not film anything. Apparently security wasn't as convinced. That led to a nice parting strip-search at the airport. Good times.)
And one final note. We have our next adventure in mind and tentatively lined up for the Spring. Different target, different idea, similar adventure. Stay tuned....
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Spoons in a Drawer
Called it a relatively early night after Royal Ascot. Chris got down to some editing with the painfully slow email connection, and we were in bed earlier than any other night.
Next morning we returned the top hats and tails and headed to Oxford, home of the revered University following a lead that Richard Branson frequents some establishments out that way. Drove on down the highway, and low and behold the GPS started working. Thanks for nothing. Arrived in Oxford and immediately had to pee. We found a wonderfully decked out church, where we were able to relieve ourselves and get a little spiritual cleansing.
Made our way over to an old cemetery where people seemed to be congregating. There we came across an obviously in love couple that were affectionately spooning each other amongst the tombs. After establishing that they did not know Richard Branson or anyone who did, they allowed us to spoon with them as we chatted about where they were from (Sweden and Columbia) and what they wanted to do with their lives. We also spent some time in blissful silence, four spoons in a drawer.
After tearing ourselves away form the sensuous couple, we came upon another group of four. After making small talk we realized that one of the woman had attended Boston University. When we mentioned Improv Asylum she excitedly exclaimed:
"Hey, I love that place. Been there a bunch of times."
It truly is a small world when you can run into someone in a cemetery in Oxford that has been to our shows. Amazing. From here we got a tip that Sir Richard's home town was near by. We made our way to the town (Which we are purposely not naming. Would not want any crazed fanatics trying to track down Mr. Branson and make an annoyance of themselves.). While pulled over mulling what to do next, a lovely woman named Charlie smoking at the back door of a bar pointed us in the direction of one of his favorite hang outs. Again, out of respect for his privacy and not wanting to turn this into a crazy stalking story, we will not name the pub.
We had a beer, watched some cricket, chatted with some of the locals who all confirmed that this was in fact a bar he frequents. While we would have loved to stay out in the county that evening, we needed to get back to London for a show that night with Grand Theft Impro. We headed out, received a prank call from some people at the pub, and skipped through a lovely field of daisies on the side of the road.
Back in London we headed over to the the Wheatsheaf where we were invited to perform with the lads of Grand Theft Impro www.grandtheftimpro.com . We got there about 10 minutes before going on stage. Introductions, a quick explanation of the show, and the next thing we know we are on stage with three very funny, very gracious guys. We had a great time on stage finishing with a rousing ska number. Phil, Drew and Dylan made us feel totally welcome on stage and off. Hopefully we can return the favor in Boston sometime.
After the show Chris headed back to the hotel to attack the editing. The Grand Theft Impro guys invited us out to the Phoenix Artist Club, a private drinking establishment frequented by entertainment types. There we drank. Publicly in private. We finished the night with an old late night Boston favorite; sausages simmering in nasty brown/black grease stuffed into a bun with onions and peppers. Ah, the taste of home.
While our person to person leads seemed to lead us to some dead ends, the email and phone leads started to heat up, pointing us to some potentially promising results. With only Friday left, we are up against it. For realzies.
Next morning we returned the top hats and tails and headed to Oxford, home of the revered University following a lead that Richard Branson frequents some establishments out that way. Drove on down the highway, and low and behold the GPS started working. Thanks for nothing. Arrived in Oxford and immediately had to pee. We found a wonderfully decked out church, where we were able to relieve ourselves and get a little spiritual cleansing.
Made our way over to an old cemetery where people seemed to be congregating. There we came across an obviously in love couple that were affectionately spooning each other amongst the tombs. After establishing that they did not know Richard Branson or anyone who did, they allowed us to spoon with them as we chatted about where they were from (Sweden and Columbia) and what they wanted to do with their lives. We also spent some time in blissful silence, four spoons in a drawer.
After tearing ourselves away form the sensuous couple, we came upon another group of four. After making small talk we realized that one of the woman had attended Boston University. When we mentioned Improv Asylum she excitedly exclaimed:
"Hey, I love that place. Been there a bunch of times."
It truly is a small world when you can run into someone in a cemetery in Oxford that has been to our shows. Amazing. From here we got a tip that Sir Richard's home town was near by. We made our way to the town (Which we are purposely not naming. Would not want any crazed fanatics trying to track down Mr. Branson and make an annoyance of themselves.). While pulled over mulling what to do next, a lovely woman named Charlie smoking at the back door of a bar pointed us in the direction of one of his favorite hang outs. Again, out of respect for his privacy and not wanting to turn this into a crazy stalking story, we will not name the pub.
We had a beer, watched some cricket, chatted with some of the locals who all confirmed that this was in fact a bar he frequents. While we would have loved to stay out in the county that evening, we needed to get back to London for a show that night with Grand Theft Impro. We headed out, received a prank call from some people at the pub, and skipped through a lovely field of daisies on the side of the road.
Back in London we headed over to the the Wheatsheaf where we were invited to perform with the lads of Grand Theft Impro www.grandtheftimpro.com . We got there about 10 minutes before going on stage. Introductions, a quick explanation of the show, and the next thing we know we are on stage with three very funny, very gracious guys. We had a great time on stage finishing with a rousing ska number. Phil, Drew and Dylan made us feel totally welcome on stage and off. Hopefully we can return the favor in Boston sometime.
After the show Chris headed back to the hotel to attack the editing. The Grand Theft Impro guys invited us out to the Phoenix Artist Club, a private drinking establishment frequented by entertainment types. There we drank. Publicly in private. We finished the night with an old late night Boston favorite; sausages simmering in nasty brown/black grease stuffed into a bun with onions and peppers. Ah, the taste of home.
While our person to person leads seemed to lead us to some dead ends, the email and phone leads started to heat up, pointing us to some potentially promising results. With only Friday left, we are up against it. For realzies.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Pain in the Royal Ascot
We woke up a little groggy on Day 3, thanks to Jackie, er I mean Joan, Collins and the likes of Angus, Chris and Phil. But having a fresh "hot tip" that Sir Richard might be at Royal Ascot, we got up bright and early. The best way to describe Royal Ascot would be the British version of the Kentucky Derby. Only with the Queen and a lot more pomp and circumstance, yet with the same level of crowd drunkeness.
We were politely and not-so-politely informed prior to the event that we would need to be "kitted out" for it. In other words we were the riff-raff and needed to be cleaned up - we were advised to go to Moss Bros. to rent formalwear, which was a great tip. A couple of hours later, Norm, Chris our cameraman, and I emerged with tuxes, tails and top hats. It was like "Pretty Woman" without having to sleep with Richard Gere. And suddenly I felt that I just might have the ability to talk to the animals.
On we went to the train station and then on to Ascot. We had secured tickets through concierge extraordinaire Paula. But when we arrived we were informed that we couldn't bring the camera in, so I inquired about a press pass. Amazingly, somehow on the spot we talked our way into getting 3 press passes and were allowed into the event. Gullible or nice or both, gotta love the British high society.
Enjoyed the races. Followed an insider tip on one of the races to bet on Rose Blossom. Thought it would be exciting, so we placed a bet. Horse racing is less exciting when your "can't lose" horse is a lap behind all the other horses. We were convinced the insider tip was just to spur more betting on the race. Gullible or nice or both, gotta love Americans spending money to fit in.
Highlight of the trip was the sing-along. Thousands of drunken British singing "Daydream Believer" followed by "God Save the Queen". Not sure who put the set list together, but whoever it was knows how to rock. Chris was filming and a very nice high society lady whipped out her breast for the camera. "British Girls Gone Wild" will not be in stores any time soon, but it certainly added a nice touch to end the day. Alas, while we did not run into Richard Branson at least we saw some skin.
An even better end of the day was a phone call from Monica just outside of LA, a call from a London man, and an email from Julie from Boston -- all with more leads to Sir Richard Branson. Decided to follow the lead to where Branson lives and to explore the Oxford area tomorrow. Having unsuccessfully talked to animals, we decided to return the tuxes and top hats.
We were politely and not-so-politely informed prior to the event that we would need to be "kitted out" for it. In other words we were the riff-raff and needed to be cleaned up - we were advised to go to Moss Bros. to rent formalwear, which was a great tip. A couple of hours later, Norm, Chris our cameraman, and I emerged with tuxes, tails and top hats. It was like "Pretty Woman" without having to sleep with Richard Gere. And suddenly I felt that I just might have the ability to talk to the animals.
On we went to the train station and then on to Ascot. We had secured tickets through concierge extraordinaire Paula. But when we arrived we were informed that we couldn't bring the camera in, so I inquired about a press pass. Amazingly, somehow on the spot we talked our way into getting 3 press passes and were allowed into the event. Gullible or nice or both, gotta love the British high society.
Enjoyed the races. Followed an insider tip on one of the races to bet on Rose Blossom. Thought it would be exciting, so we placed a bet. Horse racing is less exciting when your "can't lose" horse is a lap behind all the other horses. We were convinced the insider tip was just to spur more betting on the race. Gullible or nice or both, gotta love Americans spending money to fit in.
Highlight of the trip was the sing-along. Thousands of drunken British singing "Daydream Believer" followed by "God Save the Queen". Not sure who put the set list together, but whoever it was knows how to rock. Chris was filming and a very nice high society lady whipped out her breast for the camera. "British Girls Gone Wild" will not be in stores any time soon, but it certainly added a nice touch to end the day. Alas, while we did not run into Richard Branson at least we saw some skin.
An even better end of the day was a phone call from Monica just outside of LA, a call from a London man, and an email from Julie from Boston -- all with more leads to Sir Richard Branson. Decided to follow the lead to where Branson lives and to explore the Oxford area tomorrow. Having unsuccessfully talked to animals, we decided to return the tuxes and top hats.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Liz Taylor, we'd like to introduce you to Jackie Collins...
Tuesday we really started to pick up steam. We kicked off the day by taking one of London's famed double decker bus tours. Mike the tour guide (We loved your snarky asides that no one else on the bus seemed to get) was gracious enough to let us get on the mic and ask the passengers if any of them could introduce us to Richard Branson. Blank stares all around. I made a lame joke about being an American. I actually heard someone cough in the ensuing silence.
From there we jumped back in the car for our 10 minute ride to Kensington. An hour and a half later we arrived, with Chet needing a Valium and me 150 pounds poorer from purchasing a GPS that won't connect to the satellite.
After finding Virgin's old offices we made our way to the new ones. Once we confirmed the location we moved on. We are taking the approach that, much like a vampire, we cannot enter unless invited.
From here things started to get a little weird. I arm wrestled a Bulgarian street cleaner. He was a very lovely and strong gentleman. We might have got him fired, so I feel very bad about that. Then we jogged with an Italian named Marco. Insert your own Marco Polo pool joke here. After that we found ourselves at http://www.simplypleasures.com/ , a sex toy store. We chatted with Joseph, a dude sitting out front reading what seemed to be something very academic, not at all what you think one would be reading sitting in front of http://www.simplypleasures.com/ . I would like to thank the lovely Wren for showing us around and being completely professional as Chet and I turned into 14 year old boys holding up massive dildos and ball gags.
From there we headed next door to The Albion pub http://www.downthealbion.com/ . The owners, brothers Chris and Phil couldn't have been cooler. Chris realized that Richard Branson owned a private restaurant not too far away called Kensington Roof Garden. He called over there and let them know some "Famous American Comedians" were in town and needed a table. The truth is an elastic thing.
Before we left we met Angus. Is there a better name for a man than Angus? I think not. He hooked us up with his friend Paula who owns http://www.girlsontheground.com/ , who hooked us up with tickets to Royal Ascot on Wednesday, an event Mr. Branson was rumoured to be attending. Good people these Brits.
Dinner. Enjoying ourselves immensely when someone I and everybody in the place recognizes walks in. I quickly point her out to Chet and Chris:
"Check it out, that's Liz Taylor".
After some careful observation Chet corrected me:
"No it's not. That's Jackie Collins. She was on the show Dallas in the '80's."
This nonsense went on back and forth for awhile until our waiter politely corrected us that it was in fact Joan Collins. Whoops. So we sent her over a bottle of wine, and she waved back. I wonder when they will do a new version of Dallas? When they do, I hope they re imagine it and turn it into something dark and futuristic like they did for Battlestar Galactica. I'm getting off topic.
Shots of tequila, which we did not know were tequila, were sent over to us by some other Americans. Yes, we Americans know how to class up a joint.
Finished up and headed back to the Albion. Who do we see? Marco the Italian runner! Good times all around, with Brother Phil putting pints in front of us, long after the place closed. Phil and Chris, this is a serious offer, let's open an Improv Asylum in London. You guys run the bar, we'll handle the show. Who's with me?
Finished the night crashing at the hotel. Two twin beds mashed together for Chet and I, a nest of comforters and pillows on the floor for our wee lad Chris. All and all a pretty remarkable day, with so many wonderful people willing to help out. Mr. Branson, I'd recommend you hire all of these people. They would make Virgin proud. Especially the Bulgarian. Man that guy was strong.
From there we jumped back in the car for our 10 minute ride to Kensington. An hour and a half later we arrived, with Chet needing a Valium and me 150 pounds poorer from purchasing a GPS that won't connect to the satellite.
After finding Virgin's old offices we made our way to the new ones. Once we confirmed the location we moved on. We are taking the approach that, much like a vampire, we cannot enter unless invited.
From here things started to get a little weird. I arm wrestled a Bulgarian street cleaner. He was a very lovely and strong gentleman. We might have got him fired, so I feel very bad about that. Then we jogged with an Italian named Marco. Insert your own Marco Polo pool joke here. After that we found ourselves at http://www.simplypleasures.com/ , a sex toy store. We chatted with Joseph, a dude sitting out front reading what seemed to be something very academic, not at all what you think one would be reading sitting in front of http://www.simplypleasures.com/ . I would like to thank the lovely Wren for showing us around and being completely professional as Chet and I turned into 14 year old boys holding up massive dildos and ball gags.
From there we headed next door to The Albion pub http://www.downthealbion.com/ . The owners, brothers Chris and Phil couldn't have been cooler. Chris realized that Richard Branson owned a private restaurant not too far away called Kensington Roof Garden. He called over there and let them know some "Famous American Comedians" were in town and needed a table. The truth is an elastic thing.
Before we left we met Angus. Is there a better name for a man than Angus? I think not. He hooked us up with his friend Paula who owns http://www.girlsontheground.com/ , who hooked us up with tickets to Royal Ascot on Wednesday, an event Mr. Branson was rumoured to be attending. Good people these Brits.
Dinner. Enjoying ourselves immensely when someone I and everybody in the place recognizes walks in. I quickly point her out to Chet and Chris:
"Check it out, that's Liz Taylor".
After some careful observation Chet corrected me:
"No it's not. That's Jackie Collins. She was on the show Dallas in the '80's."
This nonsense went on back and forth for awhile until our waiter politely corrected us that it was in fact Joan Collins. Whoops. So we sent her over a bottle of wine, and she waved back. I wonder when they will do a new version of Dallas? When they do, I hope they re imagine it and turn it into something dark and futuristic like they did for Battlestar Galactica. I'm getting off topic.
Shots of tequila, which we did not know were tequila, were sent over to us by some other Americans. Yes, we Americans know how to class up a joint.
Finished up and headed back to the Albion. Who do we see? Marco the Italian runner! Good times all around, with Brother Phil putting pints in front of us, long after the place closed. Phil and Chris, this is a serious offer, let's open an Improv Asylum in London. You guys run the bar, we'll handle the show. Who's with me?
Finished the night crashing at the hotel. Two twin beds mashed together for Chet and I, a nest of comforters and pillows on the floor for our wee lad Chris. All and all a pretty remarkable day, with so many wonderful people willing to help out. Mr. Branson, I'd recommend you hire all of these people. They would make Virgin proud. Especially the Bulgarian. Man that guy was strong.
Monday, June 15, 2009
We have officially arrived!
London has officially been taken by storm by Branson or Bust. We landed at 7am local time after a nice red-eye flight on Virgin Atlantic (that's a plug, Mr. Branson). We hit the ground running, or some might say stalling a car out. Our rental car has been an adventure unto itself. It's a manual transmission and you're on the other side of the car driving on the other side of the road. It's like a double negative with potential tragedy around every corner. Plus I (Chet) couldn't figure out how to get the car into reverse for the first hour - which, by the way, makes a 3 point turn a little more challenging.
Car issues aside, it's been a great first day. On the plane we met a wonderful flight attendant (that's plug number 2 for those counting) who knows Richard Branson's personal assistant...we think. She took some "Branson or Bust" cards and said she'd forward the information on and post it at their headquarters -- so we have that going for us, which is nice.
On the ground, we hit Piccadilly Circus and asked around for Richard Branson. That has led us to a few phone calls, a trip to Buckingham Palace, and some interesting characters. We also now have 3 very different leads on where Branson lives -- either there are some misconceptions out there, or my man has several houses - we'll see.
Favorite moment had to be when Norm was asking some tour guides for permission to use their interview footage for later. After "Gordon" had introduced himself, Norm turned to the next guide:
Norm: "And how about this gentleman, what's your name?"
Guide: "Alison. I'm not a gentleman."
Nice. Building bridges one person at a time.
Headed out to the pub scene soon to see what connections we can find and people we can vaguely, or not so vaguely, insult. At least I won't be driving...
Car issues aside, it's been a great first day. On the plane we met a wonderful flight attendant (that's plug number 2 for those counting) who knows Richard Branson's personal assistant...we think. She took some "Branson or Bust" cards and said she'd forward the information on and post it at their headquarters -- so we have that going for us, which is nice.
On the ground, we hit Piccadilly Circus and asked around for Richard Branson. That has led us to a few phone calls, a trip to Buckingham Palace, and some interesting characters. We also now have 3 very different leads on where Branson lives -- either there are some misconceptions out there, or my man has several houses - we'll see.
Favorite moment had to be when Norm was asking some tour guides for permission to use their interview footage for later. After "Gordon" had introduced himself, Norm turned to the next guide:
Norm: "And how about this gentleman, what's your name?"
Guide: "Alison. I'm not a gentleman."
Nice. Building bridges one person at a time.
Headed out to the pub scene soon to see what connections we can find and people we can vaguely, or not so vaguely, insult. At least I won't be driving...
Saturday, June 13, 2009
So Ben Franklin knows Bill Gates...
So in reading my last post, as well as the basic write up on the web page I have come to the realization that I love starting sentences of with the word "So". I counted something like 5 or 6 times where I started something off with "So". So my apologies for that.
Chet and I were out in Boston yesterday shooting some stuff for the web. We also started to meet people and see if anyone knew Richard Branson or could introduce us to someone who did. No luck yesterday with that, although we met Ben Franklin (Don't call him an impersonator, he gets pissed) and started chatting with him. First he thought we were looking for Charles Bronson, acclaimed actor of the Death Wish movies (Had two other people think the same thing. Apparently RB's "Q" rating here in Boston is about the same as Charles Bronson's. )
When we explained who Richard Branson was, he informed us that he knew Bill Gates. Yes, the Bill Gates of Microsoft. Thank you Ben for making that leap with no reference at all to the previous conversation. Ben said something about meeting him through his son. His real son, not his Ben Franklin son. Seemed he had no problem breaking character when it was convenient for him. Anyways, Ben was a good guy to talk to, but kind of gave us the shove off so he could get back to work. He was handing out 20% off coupons to a souvenir t-shirt store. Hard times for an icon of American history.
We leave tomorrow for London. Getting pretty excited. We have a show tonight at 11:00, Unhinged at Improv Asylum. We are also shooting something at the end of the show for Branson or Bust. Come down if you are around.
Chet and I were out in Boston yesterday shooting some stuff for the web. We also started to meet people and see if anyone knew Richard Branson or could introduce us to someone who did. No luck yesterday with that, although we met Ben Franklin (Don't call him an impersonator, he gets pissed) and started chatting with him. First he thought we were looking for Charles Bronson, acclaimed actor of the Death Wish movies (Had two other people think the same thing. Apparently RB's "Q" rating here in Boston is about the same as Charles Bronson's. )
When we explained who Richard Branson was, he informed us that he knew Bill Gates. Yes, the Bill Gates of Microsoft. Thank you Ben for making that leap with no reference at all to the previous conversation. Ben said something about meeting him through his son. His real son, not his Ben Franklin son. Seemed he had no problem breaking character when it was convenient for him. Anyways, Ben was a good guy to talk to, but kind of gave us the shove off so he could get back to work. He was handing out 20% off coupons to a souvenir t-shirt store. Hard times for an icon of American history.
We leave tomorrow for London. Getting pretty excited. We have a show tonight at 11:00, Unhinged at Improv Asylum. We are also shooting something at the end of the show for Branson or Bust. Come down if you are around.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
1st Post for Branson or Bust
So this is the first post for Branson or Bust. Lots of stuff going on right now as we get the final things in place for our trip to London in search of Sir Richard.
I did an interview earlier today with Fox News. Hopefully they will use it at some point. Yesterday we (Chet and I) did an interview with Newsweek about Branson or Bust, and that is supposed to be somewhere at www.newsweek.com. We'll post the link as soon as we have it.
All this is happenning at the exact same time as we are moving Improv Asylum's offices from the second floor to the third floor, so there are carpenters, electricians, plumbers, office people and my favorite, interns, running around all over the place adding to the general chaos. It's actually kind of a fitting prelude to the trip.
It's funny, so far most everyone we have told about the trip seems to just take it for granted that we will get a meeting with Richard Branson. They seem to be so causual about it, sort of like:
"Well yeah, of course you'll get a meeting with him".
I'm not sure if it's faith in us, how people think of Richard Branson, or a certain detachment from reality that let's them be so optimistic. Whatever it is, I hope they are right.
So tomorrow (Friday) I'm doing a radio interview with a station in Worcester (Shout out to my home town of Grafton), we are shooting a quick video, and I am debating on whether to wax my back, shave it, or use Nair for men. Any thoughts or opinions would be appreciated.
N
I did an interview earlier today with Fox News. Hopefully they will use it at some point. Yesterday we (Chet and I) did an interview with Newsweek about Branson or Bust, and that is supposed to be somewhere at www.newsweek.com. We'll post the link as soon as we have it.
All this is happenning at the exact same time as we are moving Improv Asylum's offices from the second floor to the third floor, so there are carpenters, electricians, plumbers, office people and my favorite, interns, running around all over the place adding to the general chaos. It's actually kind of a fitting prelude to the trip.
It's funny, so far most everyone we have told about the trip seems to just take it for granted that we will get a meeting with Richard Branson. They seem to be so causual about it, sort of like:
"Well yeah, of course you'll get a meeting with him".
I'm not sure if it's faith in us, how people think of Richard Branson, or a certain detachment from reality that let's them be so optimistic. Whatever it is, I hope they are right.
So tomorrow (Friday) I'm doing a radio interview with a station in Worcester (Shout out to my home town of Grafton), we are shooting a quick video, and I am debating on whether to wax my back, shave it, or use Nair for men. Any thoughts or opinions would be appreciated.
N
Monday, June 8, 2009
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