Russell Chubb's Celebrity Mind Raid - Hugh Grant

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A week last Tuesday I was at the checkout in Whole Foods – the Kensington branch – when something very much awry occurred. I’d like to point out at this juncture that I was just going about my very normal, everyday life – I was even wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Everything seemed fine until I handed the middle-aged lady at the till my Coutts Gold Card and I noticed her suddenly glancing at a message that had flashed up on the computer screen in front of her. Then she asked me the most bizarre question. “Would you like cashback, Mr Grant?” she said, trying desperately to effect an air of normality.

Now, I’ll tell you why this came as such a shock: Just 15 minutes earlier, while sat in my very normal Mercedes people carrier in a nearby underground car park, I'd had a conversation which directly mirrored the intrusive query from the  – reasonably foxy, actually – checkout lady. My baby’s mother (who, at my behest, had remained in the car, under a blanket on the back seat for the duration of the incident so as to avoid detection by the paparazzi) had asked me if I would kindly withdraw £40 to give to her as a loan. We are very good friends, so I, naturally, agreed and said I would ask for cashback in the store.

As I skulked out of Whole Foods after the shocking, intrusive incident, responding with a terse "fuck off" to the security attendant who wished me a good day, the penny dropped: my car had been bugged. I cannot, for the life of me, think of any other conceivable reason why the husky-voiced checkout lady would have asked me such a leftfield question. She had clearly been asked to deliver the message from her bosses, whoever they were, as a spiteful little "we’re watching you" gesture.

The next morning, once I had collected my thoughts and spoken to my lawyers, I sent my assistant and two other representatives to covertly scour the store for any evidence that could implicate the offenders. The cunning staff on the shop floor were on to them in no time, attempting to oil them with free samples of quinoa and star fruit soup, and a "15 percent off" coupon for some sour dough bread. Unsurprisingly, they came back empty-handed – aside from an arugula and strawberry salad (which, I have to admit, was very nice).

I knew at this point it was time to play hardball. I knew I had to put myself in the crosshairs in order to expose the callous intrusion into my private life. I stormed into the store, eyeballing every security camera I passed, and walked straight up to a buxom lady stacking some shelves. I began to quiz her (while wearing a wire, of course – I needed hard evidence) to see if she would crumble. I told her about the surveillance, I told her about the cashback incident. "I’d love to hear what your explanation for that is," I said. She seemed startled – shocked that I had the effrontery to challenge the system. I’ve had to deal with harassment my whole life, but this latest intrusion felt particularly savage on the part of Whole Foods – whom I had never, in any way, crossed before.

The following morning there was a mention of my brave crusade on page 17 of the Metro. Naturally, the tale was contorted beyond recognition and filled with misreportings, untruths and outright lies. But I have to say I was quite pleased. It was proof, if any were needed, that feathers had been well and truly ruffled.

Previously: Russell Chubb's Celebrity Mind Raid - Gregg Wallace