“Can you tell people that you’re from Hustler?” Ali G asks me. “Or The Source. Or Guns & Ammo. Speaking to a Guardian journalist ain’t a good look for me in the hood.”
At Ali’s request, we are meeting in an independent chicken shop in Staines because – due to some sort of mix-up – he thought the one interview he had agreed to for his new film was Chicken Shop Date, which was “90% likely to lead to boning”. He follows this with an entirely unprintable reminiscence about the first time he and “me Julie” had sex in the disabled toilets of Egham KFC.
