So Jamie Demetriou’s big-Hollywood-break-buy-a-house-and-finally-become-an-adult moment actually looked like ‘living out of a suitcase in an LA Airbnb’ and ‘not quite knowing which cardboard box had all the Baftas in it’ (he still hasn’t unpacked them). No way of doing that final Land Registry search.
And then – say it with me now – The Cyberattack On Hackney Council. “The National Crime Agency continues to investigate the incident.” So what does this mean? It means in winter 2020 Jamie Demetriou was about to buy a house in Hackney, and was so confident it was going to happen – he was in his moment! He’d just won three Baftas! He was about to go to Hollywood! – that he packed everything he owned into boxes and went to Los Angeles to film The Afterparty, the new AppleTV+ 10-part murder-mystery that has every living comedian on the planet in it. “How is no one talking about the cyberattack on Hackney Council?”). ‘The sophisticated attack on 11 October left many systems unavailable for Council staff to deliver essential services, with months of painstaking work to safely recover them,’ it says on the Hackney Council website (“Did you know about this?” Jamie asks. For Jamie Demetriou it felt like this: a raging pandemic meant he was locked inside for most of his nine-week Hollywood breakthrough, everything he owned was in a pile of unmarked boxes back at a flat he thought he’d already moved out of, and a cyberattack across the east London postcodes had left him fairly unsure about his council tax status. What it feels like when years of hard work and talent and potential suddenly align and become bathed in golden light, when everyone recognises your worth and your power and your capability, when you finally take that step up out of the swampy water of ‘trying’ into the cool clean air of ‘succeeding’. You often wonder what it feels like to be ‘in a moment’: Jordan’s ascendant season in the NBA, Rooney’s Euro 2004, some other analogy that isn’t just sport. “But basically… it was the cyberattack on Hackney Council.” We’re sitting on a bench in an east London park so indistinct it doesn’t have a name, there is mud beneath our feet and the air is velvety with drizzle. “Well, what happened with me was – I mean, it’s annoying that the thing that happened to me was like, fucking boring,” Jamie Demetriou says.
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