Peado Pete? … or George Costanza?

As I sit watching TV on my own I start flicking about the channels. There is nothing interesting, as is always the case at 11pm, so I just plump on whatever I see next. It appears to be some early nineties drama/comedy type programme and frankly it looks rubbish, but at this point in time I’ll give anything a go.

As I begin watching I notice a young Jerry Seinfeld appear on my screen and wonder what the hell he’s doing in this horrendous programme. As the show continues it becomes clear that the premise is that the main characters somehow change appearance and can become each other. Suddenly Anne Hathaway appears in a bikini, but then suddenly turns into Seinfeld. This is weird, I start to wonder how this ever got commisoned…

As I sit and watch a man enters the room and sits down on the sofa next to me. I recognise him and in my mind I assume that he’s one of my brother’s friends. We sit and chat about the show, and we both realise that we’re fans of the show Seinfeld. It is really annoying me that I can’t remember this man’s name. We continue to chat about our favourite Seinfeld episodes and then he catches sight of the show that’s on TV. “This was the first series of Seinfeld, you know”. I sit in stunned silence and stare blankly at my TV. This was the first series of Seinfeld?! I refuse to believe it. The man goes on, “Yeah, Jerry went on this weird direction with the first series and he packed loads into it, that’s why the later series are about nothing”. With that statement he upped and left.

A little while later my brother appears. He enquires about what I’m watching. I tell him that it’s the first series of Seinfeld. “I’ve never seen this, I basically refuse to watch it”. I can see why.

“I was just watching it with this guy, I think he was a friend of yours. He was short, bit plump, balding” .. “Hmm, could be my mate from uni Paedo Pete, studied abroad with Katie Price”… “No, definitely not him, he had glasses on”. My brother has no idea who this man was. It was only as I look back at the TV that I realise that I’d been sat watching TV with George Costanza. George. Bloody. Costanza. How had this not clicked with me before? My brother refuses to believe me, which is understandable. I sit and wish I could watch TV with George Costanza every day.

My Mate, Paul McCartney

As I walk along the autumnal street of my old village I feel excited. I’m going to be getting a new niece or nephew very soon and I can’t wait. I decide to nip into the Spar shop to buy a few items. I’m greeted by Paul McCartney who is apparently now my new butcher. He seems very excited about his new job, but he looks a bit out of place in the uniform.

I go and buy a bottle of Coke and Paul lets me have it for 50p, which is nice of him. I’m not sure why but his accent is really, really scouse. I ask him why and he says that ever since he’s started his new career as a butcher his old accent has come back but it makes him feel more in touch with the people so he doesn’t mind.

I leave the shop and go along to the doctors surgery where the baby is being born. Everyone is very relaxed, and my mum is there to support my brother who is having the baby. Andrew is tired but he seems very happy at the fact that he has given birth to a very smiley baby boy.

This feels like a good time to celebrate so I decide to go back to the Spar to buy some chocolate and some more Coke. I bump into my sister, brother in law and their three kids, as well as my dad and step mum. They haven’t heard that Andrew has had his baby yet, and I nearly ruin the suprise but I manage to keep quiet.

I go on the hunt for some crisps and see Paul again. He’s standing on top of a desk at the back of the top and light is shining out of him as if he is an angel. He looks glorious. I shout up to Paul that Andrew has finally given birth and he exclaims “FREE CRISPS AND COKE FOR EVERYONE!!” to which everybody in the shop cheers. It seems that no one, including myself, is concerned or suprised that a man has just given birth to a baby. But I am excited to have a new little baby in the family, and that Paul McCartney has given be a large amount of free food and drink today. If only every day was like this…

Life Lessons From Ronan Keating

Sat in a room with Ronan Keating, Una from The Saturdays and Sharon Osborne, I look around and realise that I’m the only non ‘celeb’ in this place. Una really is very pretty, and I can’t help but sit and stare at her face. I sit wishing that I looked like her, but I never will so that is that. The three of them are discussing their ambitions. Their ambition really isn’t what I was expecting, and the conversation takes an odd turn.

Una announces that she really wants to be on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, whilst Ronan wants to be on Strictly Come Dancing. Sharon on the other hand wants to perform on The X Factor. I ask thm why they don’t just go on these programmes. “Monetries”, comes the reply. I ask what that word means… Una and Ronan explain that Irish singers aren’t allowed to go on reality TV because of the impact that it would have on their career. “In Ireland the term for loss of money is monetries, so singers don’t do it, the government has regulations which means that you have to have had a break of at least two years before you’re allowed to go on reality TV. Then you have a lower risk of losing money”. Una pipes up, “Have you ever wondered why there are nearly no Irish celebrities on reality TV?”. I sit and think about it, actually no, I can’t name a famous Irish person to be on reality TV. I just assumed that there weren’t many famous people in Ireland.

I tell Una that if she really wants to do reality TV then she should. She asks if I want to come on a kids TV programme with her. I say yes and the next thing I know we’re on set and getting set upon by children with water pistols. These kids are everywhere, constantly pelting us with water. We get onto some weird go kart type mode of transport and we make our get away along the sunny streets. I am starting to think that I am now slightly in love with Una, and I may quite possibly be a lesbian. She really is very pretty, have I talked about that before?

We meet up with Ronan and Sharon who have both had adventures of their own. Sharon got to sing on The X Factor and Ronan got to have a quick dance on Strictly. I am still staring at Una, and her lovely face and lovely make up, and I seem very content at staying this way.

Three’s A Crowd

My friend and I are rushing. We always seem to be rushing, but this time we have to get on this train to Liverpool. As we get halfway into the station entrance I realise that we’ve left all our luggage on the back of a pick up truck and frantically try to unload it all. It’s a cold night and even the running isn’t warming me up. We just make it onto the train.

I’m excited for this weekend. We have a wedding to go to, and I get to see my boyfriend. We pass the time on the train by reading magazines and listening to Steps, and we laugh, we are laughing so much at something that we nearly forget to get off the train. I’ve never been to Liverpool before but my first impression is that it looks depressing. The tall dark buildings are dominating, and it appears that hundreds of Victorian factories and workhouses are still standing. It is even colder here and now I wished I’d worn anther jumper.

As I get ready for the wedding I can’t wait. I have a lovely blue dress to wear and I feel confident. Our friend who is getting married looks radiant and everyone at the wedding looks smart. The reception is full of dancing, and for some reason the DJ keeps playing YouNever Can Tell by Chuck Berry.

Once the wedding is over I head to Rob’s house. Apparently since I have been away Rob has got another girlfriend, Hannah. I know Hannah from university and in my mind having a bit of an odd polyamorous relationship is completely normal. I never thought I’d say that.

The three of us spend the afternoon pottering about in the garden and watching films on the sofa. The more I keep thinking about it, the more the idea of boyfriend sharing seems a bit strange. Hannah and I become very competitive with each other for Rob’s attention but Rob seems to be completely happy with the whole situation. I decide that it is probably a good time to go home and try to block out the whole afternoon from my mind.

Top of the Pops

As I sit backstage in my dressing room I’m nervous. I’ve been working towards this for years and now it’s finally happening. I’m about to perform on Top of the Pops. The rest of the band are sat around smoking and having a drink probably to calm their nerves. My twin Polly is also here. She tagged along because she really wanted to meet Duran Duran and Kajagoogoo. There’s a knock and the door and in walks a runner telling us that we’re on in ten minutes. I feel like I’m going to be sick. We have the number one song and lots of the audience have come especially to see us. There’s a journalist in the corner who is apparently following us to do on a story about the dynamics of the band. As the singer the main focus is on me. She starts asking Polly about our relationship. “I was quite suprised as their success, especially with my brother as the singer. He’s really weird looking”. The journalist then says that she thinks that we look really similar. That shuts Polly up for a while and she looks offended sat in the corner.

The runner comes in and tells us that we’re on. I’m shaking so much all my jewellery is rattling on my wrist. We walk down a long corridor towards the stage and I can hear the crowd already. Just as we’re about to get to the stage Polly spots Simon Le Bon, screams, then faints. Simon comes rushing over and asks if she’s OK. Magically at that moment Polly sits up and flings her arms around him. He looks a bit suprised and is even more suprised when Polly asks him to marry her. He politely declines the offer and Polly bursts into hysterical tears. I don’t have time for this and myself and the band make our way onto the stage. The crowd starts screaming as we take our places and then the lights dim. I’m stood at the front of the stage with a spotlight on me and suddenly the music starts and I start singing. “Give me tiiiiime, to realise my crime”. The crowd are stood staring at me. The whole time I’m singing I’m thinking about how it was time that I, Boy George, was finally getting the recognition I deserved. As I get to the end of the song the crowd goes crazy and I stand and take it all in.

Fireworks and Frank Butcher

It’s fireworks night and a small group of us are making our way to a hotel for a fireworks display. As we enter the lobby it is packed. We’d only anticipated a few groups of people showing up but it seemed that we had some competition for space. A woman who works there with curly brown hair walks towards us, she’s smiling so we take this as a good sign that we’ll get to watch the display. “I’m afraid there’s just no room for you”. I look at my friend and whisper “Act disabled, she might let us in!”. The fact that those words have just come out of my own mouth are a bit of a shock to me. The disability plan doesn’t work and we’re still not allowed to watch the fireworks, and now I just feel absolutely mortified. This hasn’t turned out to be the evening that I’d anticipated.

As we all pile back in the car no one but me seems to be aware of the fact that fireworks go quite high up in the air… and you can see them from quite a distance so we don’t really need to be standing in the hotel garden, but I don’t want to push everyone’s bad moods to new lows. As we drive along my friend realises that she needs to get some petrol. We pull up on the forecourt and all decide to get out of the car and look around the shop.

As I’m looking at the magazines my friend suddenly starts nudging me in the ribs. “IT’S FRANK BUTCHER!!” she starts whispering rather loudly. I’m mesmerised. IT’S. FRANK. BLOODY. BUTCHER. I have to meet him. Before I know what I’m doing I’m putting one leg infront of the other and suddenly I’m standing right in front of him. We engage in small talk and I make him say some Eastenders lines, and then I ask for a hug. He obliges, but as soon as he hugs me he collapses. “I think he’s dead”, says some bystander. HOLY SHIT. This is not what I imagined would happen when I met Frank Butcher. I’ve gone from hugging him to killing him.

I’ve just accidentally killed him, I’ve killed Frank Butcher (admittedly with love, but still). I’m not really sure what to do. It’s not every day that you kill someone off the telly. I do what any sensible person would do; get in the car and drive off and let somebody else deal with it. That is the English way and I’m more than happy to follow it.

The Only Way Is Forward

As we sit around waiting to film I feel bored. So very, very bored. Why am I here, and is this where I really want to be? I look around at the film crew and the rest of the cast and realise that this is not what I want to be doing wth my life but have no other options. I feel like I’m going to be in this TV show until I die. My agent, and also another star in the programme walks towards me with a face like thunder. “What have you been saying about me in the papers?!” I tell him I haven’t said a single thing but it is obvious from his face that he doesn’t believe me. He is angry, he’s gone red in the face and looks like he’s about to explode.

He starts screaming at me as I’m sat on the floor, defenceless to his abuse. The whole camera crew is looking and everyone is just standing in silence watching the drama unfold. I am mortified. I haven’t even done anything wrong but I sense that this is the end for me. “We don’t even need you on The Only Way Is Essex!!” he screams at me. I gather that since he’s my agent he can control what work I get and I don’t think that the producers are going to want me on the programme for much longer. I’d weirdly enjoyed my time on TOWIE, even if I was an odd shade of orange and my clothes were all a little bit too small. Mark Wright is laughing at me. Being laughed at by Mark Wright is a low point in my life. I decide it is probably best to walk away. “WE CAN ALWAYS REPLACE YOU, ESSEX DOESN’T NEED YOU!” is the last thing I hear as I walk out of the door.

In a panic I realise that I have no agent and no PR team to try and dampen the flames on this whole episode. I need to find a new PR and quick, but I have no idea where to start looking. My old agent knew all the details like that but had never provided me with that information. I go to the media area of London and decide that that is the best place to start looking. I enter a giant glass fronted building that is home to specialist PR companies and go to a big screen that provides information to potential clients. There is a weird drop down menu that asks what I’m famous for. The options are: charity work, conservation work, sports personality, singer or other. I decide to click on other. I’m not even sure what I’m famous for. Being on The Only Way Is Essex had been my life for so long I just wasn’t sure what to do now. I’m hoping somebody here can help me decide.

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