Friday, 11 June 2010
But of course I wasn’t going to do it quietly – why would I, why should I? I had Kate Walsh down from Live From Studio 5, putting her through her paces with a couple of the little combinations, which was great fun; she’s very cute.
But all I could see in my peripheral vision was Gordon How Hot Do You Look Smart in his white knee-length shorts (I think it’s synthetic silk they wear, isn’t it?).
I was modelling a nice pair of – well, I suppose you could almost call them batty-riders, they’d go down great in a dance hall. I wasn’t quite sure if I’d nailed it for the football look, but you know what, hey-ho!
Anyway, back to my Gordon – oh, he’s not mine at all, is he? He affectionately likes to call me Louise – I just call him GG, and no, it’s not for Gay Gordon (I wish), it’s for Gorgeous Gordon. We spent a wonderful hour together knocking out some moves, and ending up with him insisting he wanted to jump on my back for a shot. I was like, shot, darling? You’ve scored! Goal!
Anyway, after getting myself all unnecessary and overheated, I jumped straight in a cab and went over to the Sun office. My GG doesn’t only have his own spread every day in the Sun, he’s now branched out and has his own radio show, on which I was a guest. I thought it was going to be just me and GG, but no, there I was, pushed into a room with four shirts and ties, talking about hair removal and body maintenance.
Honestly, put those straight boys in a room with a gay and they wanna know why you’re looking so good – their words, not mine. So I told them how it is. You can have download it and have a listen yourself here.
We finished the radio chat and I had a little visit at the Bizarre office, where Gordon presented me with a massive horn. Mmmm. And an England flag. We had a little game of darts, a few snapshots, and that was me done – a lovely trip to the Sun.
Talking about sun, as I do, I could have done with some yesterday. So, the whole day it was looking like rain but no rain. The moment I stepped out of my car – well, it wasn’t my car at all, it wasn’t my Hyundai i10, it was one of those big Mercedes with blacked out windows and a big driver – pitter patter, pitter patter, bigger pitter patters, bigger pitter patters, now it was pissing down.
Where was I, you’re asking? I was at Top Gear, watching the track getting wetter and wetter. Shit! How was I going to be the Top Queer in those conditions - the fact that my outfit was getting ruined in the rain was bad enough. Not too far in the distance I saw a gazebo – is that what you call them? Or is that just a posh word for a tent? Anyway, I made a bee-line straight for it, where the lads were. Peter Jones - you know, the very tall one. Honestly, I had my neck aching, I had to keep looking up so far; the gerbil, or is it the hamster? I’m not sure; and Bill Bailey.
For some reason, as I made my approach, Jeremy Clarkson made his escape. He wanted to play cat and dog again, like we did on Jonathon Ross. Now, I’m not going to spoil my Top Gear moment – well, actually, there was more than one moment, there were moments. I’m going to let you see it when it’s aired on June 27, and decide for yourself if I’m the Top Queer.
All I’m going to say is that I was spectacular! I did spin off the track a couple of times, and the Stig did ask me if I was frightened, because we were going so fast; and no, I wasn’t - I was just doing some lovely off-track choreography. I did nearly kill a cameraman, but hey! Boys and toys!
Now, about me! Don’t worry, don’t believe all you read. I’m exclusive to no-one, apart from my husband, that is. And as for being handcuffed, they’d have to be more than golden, darling; they’d have to be diamond-encrusted. To all my beautiful Twitterers and Facebookers, Pineapple will still be involved in the new show, and no, I’m not opening a rival dance school; so no need to worry.
Just think of the new show as an extension of what you’ve already seen. It’s going to be fabulous, bigger and better. And don’t we all love things that grow? I do!
Friday, 4 June 2010
What’s been going on? There’s always something going on – it really is non-stop. But my life has always been non-stop, so it’s not really anything new for. And I’m like a chameleon; I can be whatever colour you want, for whatever occasion. And on Sunday I was pink and fluffy on the inside, sporting blue and white stripes on the outside, for my trip to Legally Blonde, which I treated my gorgeous husband to, as he hadn’t seen it. I had seen it of course, because I was there at opening night.
As you know, I’m not one to name drop, Emma (Bunton), Kylie (Minogue), Kate (Moss), Pixie (Lott) - she’s coming later, I’ll tell you all about Pixie – of course, I’m good friends with Sheridan (Smith) and Duncan (James). For those of you who don’t know, they are the stars of Legally Blonde, the musical. I like to keep a varied group of friends, from West End to Wembley – you know me, I don’t discriminate; from counts to council (I did say counts, didn’t I? I do know a few of the others as well, but hey.)
And what a show! I enjoyed it as much the second time as I did the first time round. Not just because, as I said, I’m good friends with people in it (Sheridan and Duncan). Ooh, I forgot to tell you - so, we’re sitting there, husband and me, and I always get an aisle seat because I have a bladder like a pea – I went to the loo four times in the first half. I’ve had my prostate checked, so it’s not that. You see, I’ve got private medical insurance, so when I go to the doctor’s I don’t bother with the GP, I just say send me private to a specialist. It costs me £800 a year – I know what you’re thinking, more money than sense, just because he’s famous. I’m a bit hesitant about using this word famous, remember last week I used it a bit too soon, it came back and kicked me right in the rear? Let’s see if I can keep it in for the rest of this blog. Keep what in, I hear you ask? The word ‘famous’.
My point about private medical insurance is I’ve always had it. I believe it’s an investment in my hypochondria, which I’ve had from a very young age, due to Pat, my mum. She would take us all to the doctor’s, me and my three sisters that is, when only one of us was ill. I mean, they say nature or nurture about being gay, well at twelve when I went to the doctor’s with my three sisters - as we always did, to get diagnosed for something we didn’t have but my mum was convinced we had – I thought I had ovaries and a womb and was going to start my period. Imagine that at twelve, when my balls had only just dropped, and I was firing blanks but still giving it a good go.
Hold on, it’s Caleb calling me. I’ve mentioned Caleb before haven’t I? Haven’t I? He’s my work colleague. Hold on a second, I just need to see what he wants… I’m back, sorry about that. Oh, actually, thank Kylie (not God anymore) he did stop me! I’ve totally digressed here, haven’t I, into my medical history, which is none of your business.
Back to Legally Blonde - in between the toilet breaks, can you believe it, I had them queuing down the aisles for autographs. I felt quite bad, signing across Sheridan’s picture on a £7 programme, but I had no choice; I didn’t have any photographs from Snappy Snaps on me – why would I?
Amazing, amazing, amazing! Well worth the money, Legally Blonde is a real good family show – Duncan is wonderful, charming and handsome, but the star of the show is Sheridan. She is just so believable; apart from having a great voice (and great tits as well, as you can see here, I do know at first hand).
Her acting is just award-worthy. If she doesn’t get one for her performance then I’m taking musical theatre out of my vocabulary.
So that was Sunday - Monday, nothing to report, I didn’t leave the house all day. It was a bank holiday, that’s what you do, isn’t it? You either spend the day with your family or do nothing, so it was nothing for me – I didn’t even scrape my tongue or floss my teeth. I know it’s hard to believe.
On Tuesday I couldn’t wait to get back to Pineapple. I bumped into Pixie (Lott), who was rehearsing for her performance on Britain’s Got Talent on Wednesday, where I was also going to be doing Britain’s Got More Talent.
Debbie (Moore) had arrived back from France, it was great to see her, as always, and catch up. Then we had a lovely dinner in the evening to celebrate her birthday, at The Ivy, of course.
Just to let you all know, this isn’t the same top that I wore to Legally Blonde on Sunday, this is short sleeved, and £2.50 from H&M.
Wednesday, I got picked up at 5.30 to get to Wembley, where they film Britain’s Got Talent and Britain’s Got More Talent. Come dressed, they said, so I did. They didn’t tell me I was going to watch the show in some badly decorated room sitting on a brown draylon and pleather sofa (if you could even call it a sofa).
By the time I got to do BGMT I was screwed up like a bit of old rag, and it wasn’t a cheap shirt, it was All Saints, which is much more expensive than Top Man (that I still haven’t got anything free from). But I did get to meet some of the contestants, which was fun.
The dance group Starburst were very sweet, and were asked who their idol was and who they would most aspire to be like – and they said me! Oh, how sweet! I didn’t like to shatter their dreams and tell them they’ve got no chance – not unless they’ve all got a mum like mine, and they’re made to believe they’ve got body parts they haven’t got, if you know what I mean. I don’t think they’re going to grow up to be gay men with loose legs and a lisp.
Anymahoot! I also met the drag artist who thought he was Madonna. Darling, he needed to think again, and again, and again. I don’t know about hung up, but he looked as if he had been dug up.
Oh, I forgot to tell you, apart from the brown draylon and pleather sofa that I had to sit on for four hours, screwing up my expensive shirt (from All Saints – maybe they’ll give me something free – All Saints All Saints All Saints). When I first arrived, the VIP area for the BGMT guests was the back end of a conservatory with some nasty blue crushed velvet curtains draped everywhere and over what I’m sure was a piss-stained sofa, I could smell it. I think they must hold the OAPs pottery class there or something, one day a week, in the ‘flu season - one cough for incontinence.
What I’m trying to get across to you guys is that it’s not glamorous, it’s work. I had a gay rosé, a bowl of potato wedges, cottage pie and peas - just how I like it, in fact.
I don’t like it all posh and la de da – I could have done without the smell of old piss. I would have Febreezed it myself, you know the spray one you can get now? I love it. (Ooh, Febreeze commercial?) I know JedWard have just done the Shake’n’Vac - they were there too. They did make me laugh, they are funny - not intentionally funny, of course.
I didn’t get out of there until midnight, and it was an early start for Lorraine Kelly. But it wasn’t Lorraine at all, it was my gorgeous Emma (Bunton), standing in for her for a week. So, of course, I got myself on. I did beauty tips, well, my beauty tips – it was all about the olive oil and eyelash curlers, you all know - I don’t need to go into detail with you lot, do I?
Then we joined Jade (Jones) in the kitchen, who did an amazing cous cous, honestly, it tasted so good, with salmon, which I didn’t go near, I don’t like fish. We had a real laugh, it was really good fun. I think I do worry the producers, of most of these shows I go on actually, I don’t know why. But hey, what can I say? It is all about fun, fun, fun, isn’t it?
It was an early night for me Thursday, what with a late one Wednesday night, after BGMT, and an early one Thursday at GMTV, with Lorraine who wasn’t Lorraine, it was Emma. Even I, with boundless energy, need to recharge. And here we are today, and what a day - the sun is shining, again.
Ooh, and while I’m on about the Sun, I just want to let Gordon know that I’m all signed up; I did it yesterday about 6 o’clock. And you can call me Louise whenever you like, Gordon. I’m taking it as a sign of affection; I’m hoping it is, because I think I’m getting a soft spot for you.
I’m going to stop there, I’m married – such a cute smile he’s got, isn’t it, Gordon, that is? You can smell his freshness – it’s like Febreeze! (I’m still trying to work on that commercial idea.)
Oh, and one other thing, Top Man and All Saints, any freebies, just contact my agent.
I’m off to the sun, and I don’t mean Gordon.
Friday, 28 May 2010
So it was straight down to Essex for me. My dad had cut the grass, mum had cleaned the garden furniture, paddling pool out, and me in my Speedos, where I left you last week, do you remember? I was going to try them on. And, yes, they fitted a treat, the red ones I went for. Which is the same colour I ended up, after thinking one hour in the sun wouldn’t hurt; not taking into account the conifer trees on one side and the creosoted fence on the other, hanging baskets and all, creating a wind barrier, with sun rays of 28 degrees, and with limited ozone. I thought I wouldn’t burn, considering I’ve only just got back from Lanzarote, with a good base tan. Well I haven’t only just got back actually, it was a good month ago. But I thought I’d be fine without my Factor 30, but, like I say, we’re all the same. Celebrity or not, we all burn!
But the severity of what I’d inflicted on myself became apparent that evening, when I could have stopped traffic with the colour of my skin. It was radiant red! You know when you feel like you have the Ready Brek glow around you, you’re that hot?
And hot is exactly what I wanted to be, but not literally red hot and looking like a burning coal, and I don’t mean Cheryl. I wanted to look hot for the first film premiere that I was going to attend, one of the hottest tickets in town, apparently very exclusive, not open to any old Tom, Dick or whosoever. And I’ve got two tickets! Na na na na na na! What to wear? What do you wear to Sex and the City? Now, I know it’s all about the girls, I know that, but the closest to is a gay, and God knows, I’m gay! Not only He knows – the whole bloody nation!
Anymahoot, wardrob - straight back to Top Man, still nothing for free, only 15% discount. I mean, really, there’s a limit, isn’t there? I’ll have a word with Philip. Green, that is, I’m sure he’d be horrified to think that someone like me would be modelling his wares with such finesse and flair without even a complimentary handkerchief on offer. Anyway, I’m not going to go on about Top Man not giving me anything, and me constantly in their clothes, for only 15% discount. Photos to follow of this week’s outfit, which I’m not sorry to say, wasn’t a full Top Man ensemble; it was married with a Zara jacket, and a wonderful Simeon Farrar designer, one-off tee shirt, which was totally free. I think this may be in the world-wide press – thanks Simeon. And, yes, I’d love to look at your new collection. I just couldn’t find a suitable tee shirt this time in Top Man.
Oh, I’ve lost where I am! Oh yes, Sex and the City. So, outfit sorted, off I went to my agent to collect my tickets. This is Tuesday, sorry. The premiere is on Thursday. I like to know I’ve got everything at hand; tickets and outfit. I’ve invited Jake, and Emma has also been invited. So, obviously, we’ll be going with her - iIt’s always good to turn up with an A-lister. Right, deep breath for me, to get in the lift, five floors up, to my agent. I can’t wait to go through my outfit with him. Get out of the lift, had about 4 panic attacks from ground to fifth – I really don’t like being closed in, hence coming out of the closet at a very young age.
Hop, skipping and jumping, a high kick and a pirouette, straight into my agent's office. Tickets please darling! Tickets please darling! Tickets! Why are you looking at me like that? This is my agent’s assistant, looking at me with an expression of panic on his face. Now, I know I haven’t missed any appointments, I was no longer flashing danger like a bleacher beacon, and I know for a fact that I don’t have any nasal hair hanging. So what can it be, I ask? Pray tell?
Er, er, er, er, er, I’m really sorry mate, I’m trying me hardest, tried all me contacts, but they’re really hard to come by.
What’s really hard to come by, I ask? It didn’t enter my head that the next word to splurge out of his mouth would be ‘Tickets!’ Well, I lost the wind beneath my wings; that was a wonderful song by Bette, wasn’t it? The song may have been wonderful, but this wasn’t. I’d just come crashing down to earth with an almighty thud, after painting myself in calamine lotion for four days, braving two high street stores in the lunchtime rush, and waited in for a recorded delivery package with designer t-shirts – all gone to plan. I was now being told, one and three quarter days before the premiere, that they could not secure my t-t-t-t-tickets! I’m calm.
Ish. I can feel the Readybrek glow coming back. I really thought I could start to use the word Celebrity. Obviously not! Not in association with my name, not quite yet. ‘I’ll keep trying mate.’
At the grand young age of 41, if you want things doing, just do them yourself. Don’t rely on others, when you can rely on pop star, tv presenter, actress, best friend, VIP pass holder, my darling friend Emma Bunton. She’s the first person on my speed dial – ring ring, ring ring, ring ring – come on darling, answer! Yes! ‘Daaaaarling, you know I thought I was a celebrity for a moment. Well, we all did, didn’t we? Anyway, that’s not what is important.’ Before I could fart in a bottle and think I could sell it, she was straight back with a ticket, and not only a ticket to the film, but to the party afterwards at Kensington Palace at the Orangerie.
Relief! Not at going to the film or the party, who cares? (I do!) It’s just the fact that I hadn’t wasted money on an outfit that I was going to wear. I know you’re probably thinking, well, you could have worn it somewhere else, but no, I couldn’t. This was for this particular premiere. I don’t know if it’s the gay gene, but when I’ve got an outfit for an occasion, it’s for that occasion and that occasion only.
It’s Thursday, 3.30 pm, Emma calls, she’s booked the penthouse at a hotel for us to get ready for the premiere. I’m saying us, it was for her, I just got in on the action. Not only did I get in on the action, while she was having her hair done I got a make-up artist to give me some guy-liner and some shine. Not that I don’t shine enough. The great thing is, the hotel was in Leicester Square, and I could see all the crowds gathering, the red carpet being laid and hovered, hear the crowd screaming – it’s really quite exciting.
We were ready to be picked up by Emma’s car, blacked out windows and all, and we were driven around to the celebrity VIP entrance. As we were about to turn in, the bloody black cab in front of us wouldn’t move. Who got out of the cab? One of the Geldof girls - she tried to walk up the red carpet, but they wouldn’t let her. She didn’t have the right credentials, or ticket, or pass, or whatever you need when you’re not in a car with a pop star, tv presenter, mother and model. And Jake Canuso. Anyway, we passed through and I got out first. Louie, Louie! Oh shit! How strange; all these people wanting a bit of me. I may be small and well formed, but I made sure there was enough to go around. Obviously they were screaming for Emma too, who was wonderful and such a pro, taking me along with her as we signed autographs and had our picture taken.
The red carpet was like doing one round of a running track, right around Leicester Square it went. GMTV, Heart Radio, BBC News, and then there was the camera runway where all the photographers stand and flash and flash and flash. I started at one end with Emma and finished up at the other end with Emma or Kylie. I didn’t feel as if I needed to see the film after that, I was happy as Larry. But I did, and I must admit, I’m sorry, I didn’t enjoy it as much as SATC 1. I’m not going to go into the reasons why, you can all make up your own minds.
We all had great fun at the party; I did approach Big to ask if I could have a photo with him, which I thought would be great to share with you all, but he ended up just being a big wanker. His reply was ‘Oh no, I don’t do photos’. Well, listen love, I wouldn’t ask you if you were in a restaurant eating your food, or if I passed you in the street, but you were at the after show party of a film you were in, so I would consider that as having your work hat on. That’s how I would perceive it if it was the premiere of my film. It wasn’t even the premiere of my film (yet) and I was posing for pictures. And I didn’t see him looking hot with Kylie!
And that was it. Until the next time I’m on fire!
Friday, 21 May 2010
With the girls, it’s normally, knickers or no knickers? Toupée-tape tits or falsies? It’s just the way my mind works, I can’t help it.
I don’t know whether to start at the back and work my way to the front, or start at the front and work my way to the back. By that I mean, I normally start my blogs from where I left off, but I’m going to start from today and work my way forward in going backwards, if you know what I mean. Confused? Yes, so was I, by the article in the Sun today.
How Bizarre, how Bizarre! I’ve never seen a journalist, in my very short time in this media whirlwind, who has been backward in coming forward, and took notice of what anyone would say about speaking to somebody. And that’s what I am nowadays, somebody that everybody wants to speak to, apparently; and somebody that everyone did speak to, with no problems at all, at the lastminute.com party where they launched my ad. So, I think, just be smart about it – do you like that, the play on words? It’s nearly as good as Bananas and Pineapples, isn’t it? My point is, Gordon, I would never have a problem speaking to someone as cute as you. So, whatever anyone says, for me, when you look as good as you do, cute as a button, all I would say is, we can talk anytime, darling! Oh, and sorry, for any of you who don’t know what’s going on, just coming in the middle of our little lovers’ tiff, this is it.
So this is today, and today is Friday, 21st May. Thursday, 20th May – remember, I’m working backwards - Emma and I had a little night out, and ended up at Chinawhite, where we had a lovely little dance or two, and before that we had burger and chips at the Ivy Club, bloody lovely. We had a good old chinwag about everything that’s been going on and is going on.
Friday, 14th, I had a lovely photoshoot at image1st with Laura. We did single shots, and then we did some shots together. I needed to some new pics - I’m loving the wink, but it’s been everywhere now, I’m getting a little bit bored of of it, aren’t you? Here’s one of the pics, just me having fun again.
It’s a variation on my pussy, but without the lycra and the towel. I know my pussy looks a bit pissed off, but I’m just having a little hissssssssss. Sorry, those s’s don’t need to be there, but as you know, my s’s do get sssssstuck.
Straight after the photoshoot, honestly, not time to fart, I went off to Google – and I don’t mean online. I mean THE offices – they’re in Victoria, very nice, very, very nice. What was I doing there, you ask? Well, I don’t know if I told you before, I went and met eight of their specialists who told me all about analytics and my demographics, and all those things that they talk about, those wonderfully intelligent, and may I add, young and sexy people at Google. This was my second visit, to say hello to everybody. Obviously I said more than hello; they rolled out a red carpet, and I gave them a show!
Anyway, moving on, I got in the cab from Google and straight off to the O2 to watch Westlife, in Sky’s corporate box. And, yes, it was my first time in one of Sky’s corporate boxes. I got where I am on my talent, not by filling my box, or anyone else’s. It was a very pleasant evening, lovely wholesome boys. And Carly - I don’t know if any of you have met Carly, she was in the show a few times - she works in the offices upstairs; gorgeous thing. Well, she’s a big fan of the boys - she had a ball, I had to peel her off the seat.
Not much happened at the weekend; well, actually, a lot did happen, but it was all body maintenance - manicure, pedicure, haircut, dye lashes, waxed ear hair. I know it’s unglamorous, but hey, after forty, hair starts to sprout from every orifice. It was all that kind of thing, you know. And if you don’t, you will!
Tuesday 18th, that’s where we are now – Shooting Stars! Coo coo, coo coo! I was on Jack Dee’s team with Paloma Faith, whom I love. I told you, didn’t I, I keep saying ‘I love’ when I meet people, but she is real good fun with a great sense of humour and doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Jack Dee had a face like a smacked arse, but a very charming smacked arse, and a really nice man. Reeves and Mortimer were great, and on Ulrika’s team there was James May from Top Gear, and James Buckley from In Betweeners. I’m not going to go on about them because they won. I did end up spreading my legs on Reeves and Mortimer’s desk and rolling onto their laps. I know, but I just can’t stop myself.
And now it’s Friday, and you know what happened on Wednesday and Thursday, because I started back to front, and now we’re front to back. I’m just going to see if my speedos still fit, as it’s going to be a hot weekend. If not, a g-string will do.
Love you and leave you. Don’t believe the hype. I don’t!
Thursday, 13 May 2010
I wish I'd walked. I mean, I can talk, but this driver was taking the piss. Now, I know I'm swearing, and this can show a lack of vocabulary, but sometimes, it's so much easier just to get your point across, don't you think? And if you don't, I don't give a f***.
And as all of you know, who read my blog, there’s nothing wrong with my vocabulary. It’s like my legs, fluid and wide, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. If you don’t, get with it.
So, after I had my ears chewed off, I arrived at the Mayfair Hotel, stepped out of the car, and all I can say is, thank God I’m not epileptic. Flash, flash, flash!!! Now, I can normally give a pose for each flash, but even for me, taking on about twenty at once, even after a coca cola, would have been a push.
Louie! Over here! Louie! Up here! Louie! Down here! Honestly, I thought I’d entered some ‘70’s porn movie. Give it to me! Spread your legs! I mean, really, the things they asked me to do. Well, yes, I couldn’t help myself, I did it. I was to the left, I was to the right, I spread my legs. It’s the dancer in me, you see, it’s just like being choreographed – I’m just quick at taking direction, what can I say? So I gave them what they wanted, and don’t get me wrong, I had a lot of fun too.
I mean, what’s the point of not having a laugh with it all, rather than stepping out with a stony face like you’ve been sprayed in starch from head to toe? When you know all of those *celebrities* just want to let rip; because they certainly do once they’re inside! Moving on in, it was a lovely do, beautiful people, all having fun. I was there two minutes and who do I bump into? The Jed and the Ward. I couldn’t tell you which one was Jed and which one was Ward, but I don’t think they can either, so I didn’t worry myself about it. I gave them a quick shake and moved on to Paloma Faith and had a brief chat with her. And sometimes it only needs to be brief and you know you’re going to like someone, and I know I’m going to like Paloma. She seemed like a girl who knows how to have a good time and not take life too seriously.
Apparently Kerry Katona was in there, but I didn’t see her. She was most probably sorting out the buffet from
Anyway, so I was there about two hours. Not being a drinker, you notice it when people start to dribble on you - that’s my cue to leave. I was in a very expensive £30 Top Man jumper, although, as I was squeezing my way through the crowd to make my exit, someone asked me if it was vintage Vivienne Westwood. I replied no, it’s Top Man, it’s just the way I wear it, darling.
But hold on, I can’t move any further. There’s this big old boof bang, all
Now, I know you’re all asking yourself, where do I know that voice from? Oh, now, who is it? Or maybe you’re not. No, you’re most probably not – because one thing everyone seems to recognize is my voice. Who would have thought that this voice of mine would be selling mags? Do I need to Reveal all? I don’t think I do, do I? Of course I don’t, you all know it’s my voice on the Reveal magazine commercials. Well, if you don’t, you do now, and I’m going to be there for the next year. Ker-ching!
And believe me, I need a bit of Ker-ching, with all of these that events I’m going to. And, may I add, I’m still only getting 15% discount at Top Man! Come on, I really do think I deserve a suit for free. I know some of you are thinking that I’m getting loads of Ker-ching, but I’m not yet. I’m ker-ching-ing, but I’m not Ker-CHING-ing, if you know what I mean. But even if I was, I would still want something for free if I could get it, and I don’t just think it’s the council in me. I think we all like something for nothing, don’t we?
Talking of events, my next one was the National Soap Awards, where I presented an award to the Best Newcomer. I did want to say my name when I opened the envelope, but then I remembered that I wasn’t in a soap. Well, who knows, I could be now! It was so much fun, in my Top Man suit. Fuck me; if I don’t get something from them, I’m going straight to Primark.
There were so many people there; I had a little photo opportunity with David Hayes. Honestly, his fist is enormous, I couldn’t fit it in - I did try.
Anyway, I gave up and decided I looked much better with a Pussy.
Mind you, I don’t look bad with Goldie either, do I?
Sorry, I’m no longer at the Soap Awards, I’m at the Sony Radio Awards, presenting another award. I think I frightened the life out of Chris Evans, when I did a flat back over and rubbed myself up his thigh. Chris was hosting the whole evening, but I couldn’t help myself, they shouldn’t give me intro music, it just gets me going. Anyway, it was a three course meal at the Grosvenor Hotel, full of a lot of radio people. And if you have trouble putting a name to faces, try putting a name to voices. Well there were a couple of faces I recognized, like the gorgeous Dermot, who I had a quick little chat with and sat on his knee, ‘cos I can now. Well, if I can’t, I did.
And on that note, I’m going to get my face pack on to try and make myself as beautiful as poss for those Loose Women tomorrow. You may receive this blog before or after I’m on with the girls, I’ve got a tight schedule.
Loving you all, and all love yourselves.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
So where are we? I left you at Jonathon, didn’t I, spraying his set with my scent. After that, I had a lovely weekend with my husband; we didn’t do anything, oh, apart from trying to get my wardrobe sorted. This is the thing you see, I learned from Miss Bunton – you can never wear the same outfit twice, not if you’re on TV. Someone will pick up on it, and I’m not having that.
Hence my shopping trips, my very big shopping trips, to Top Man and Hennes. Now listen, is that a blatant plug? Yes, it is, and I’ll tell you why! One thing I learned from Pat, my mum, is to get some discount or for nothing if you can. Actually, when we were kids we would go to every wedding with the tags still in, because every item of clothing would go straight back for that money back guarantee with the receipt.
So if anyone from these stores reads my blog, can I have some stuff for free please? Yes, my popularity seems to be rising, but I am most definitely not rich. And I spent £500 in Top Man – don’t get me wrong, they did give me a 15% discount – but free would be better, thanks!
Moving on: Monday morning, Lorraine Kelly - well, I’m loving her! But, to tell the truth, I was more excited about getting a sniff of Ben Shepherd, after I saw him running around that football pitch with his Calvin Kleins for some charity thing. He’d make me always want to rise early in the morning to watch him, if you know what I mean. Well, I got more than a sniff; when he came out of the studio he made a beeline straight for me, telling me how he loves the show and how funny I am. All I was thinking about was those solid thighs under that well-tailored suit. We took a photo together, where I got closer than I needed to, but hey, I’m never one to miss an opportunity! Oh, and another thing; I can’t believe Ben is leaving, and Adrian Chiles is coming in! Well, I suppose it means I’ll be sleeping in, in the mornings. I won’t be rising for that one!
Back to Lorraine, I had a wonderful interview with her – well, she didn’t really get a word in. Like I said before, I’m a morning person; I’m good in the mornings. There was one thing I wasn’t happy with though. As I’m sure all GMTV viewers have noticed, they’ve had a revamp in the last few months, and changed their colour scheme. There’s quite a lot of orange, actually. Well, I say orange, her rug was filthy! I would say it was more brown than orange. There were crisps on it, dirty old footprints, tea stains, and Christ knows what else. Kim and Aggie would have had a field day. I mentioned it to her; I said, you need to sort your rug out Lorraine. So next time I go on, I’m sure I could keep myself busy on my hands and knees the whole show, just cleaning her rug. Because she said she wanted me back, not just for one of those quick five minutes, she said for the whole show. So that’s Lorraine and her dirty rug.
Monday evening, shirt, starched and pressed, and cardigan on, off to ‘This Week’ for my political debut. I wasn’t really bothered about it, I can hold my own; until I sat in the Green Room when I arrived and was introduced to Will Self. Now, I know Will; well, not personally, but because I am an avid viewer of ‘Question Time’ on Thursday nights, and then I follow through to ‘This Week’.
Incidentally, I must say, I wasn’t on with Dianne Abbott, and I’m quite glad that I wasn’t. I mean, she seems a lovely woman, but I don’t know if I could cope with her constantly closing her eyes and looking up to the ceiling when she talks. She’d make me think I hadn’t got the right outfit on, or something.
Anyway, back to Will; so, I’m sitting there and he’s in conversation, not with me. Well, he’s going on about – I don’t know what he was going on about; the words he was using! I’m sure you couldn’t fit them in the alphabet. I did have the urge to go 5, 6, 7, 8, and do a jump split, to try and match him, but I thought, no, there’s a time and a place, and this wasn’t it.
The truth of it is, it’s always the time, but the room was that small, and Will Self is about 7 foot 10. ‘Mr Spence, we’re ready for you now in the studio!’ In my mind I was thinking, are you, are you really? Before you could say flick, ball, change, I was on their very hard sofa, talking politics. Get a load of me, telling Ken Livingstone and Michael Portillo who I think should run the country, and why! If you want to see me being sort of serious, you can watch it on iPlayer – just fast forward to me, it’s the best bit of the show, I think. (Well, I would, wouldn’t I?) I’m near the end.
It’s non-stop. Tuesday, I filmed my lastminute.com commercial, which was quite an experience, may I add. It was all filmed secretly, and I was jumping out on people, terrorising them with high kicks and pirouettes. I was at Waterloo, Clapham Junction, Dirty Dancing, down a pissy alley with the Avenue Q puppets. And I almost got arrested for jumping in the fountain at Trafalgar Square, where, may I add, the security called the police.
I had to run through Trafalgar Square, sopping wet, to the Trafalgar Hotel, which is very nice. Well, the toilets are very nice, because that’s where I ended up waiting for someone to bring me dry clothes. And waiting, and waiting. Yes, ten minutes I was waiting, standing naked in a public loo; and can you all take into consideration that I am a so-called celebrity now. I think not! I haven’t seen many celebrities standing there cupping their cock and balls in a public loo when I’ve gone for a piss. Have you?
One thing to say - Google. Yes, I got invited to Google. The Queen has been, you know. No, I know you’re all thinking, we know you’ve been; no, I mean the real HRH, mother of Charles and Andrew, and that cob. Well, she doesn’t look like a thoroughbred, does she? Anyway, it was amazing! They were telling me what my demographics are. Oh, I know! Apparently I’m 49/51, (that’s men and women, who are logging in to me. Did I say in to me? I meant on to me), and many other things.
There was a lovely geek there, his words, not mine - Chewy. I don’t know, there’s something quite sexy, isn’t there, about intelligence. Anything I need, I can chomp on Chewy, and I will.
MTV – Yes, I got my own show! No, don’t get excited; well, it is my own show, but it’s only a one-off. I had a fun day filming with a very MTV crew. I’m not going to tell you anymore about this. Like I said, I’m on a tight schedule - tighter than my butt cheeks were in ’89. And they were tight in ’89, all that ballet training, I’m telling you. Crack walnuts? I could have done a coconut.
The MTV show is called ‘Louie’s Just Dance’, and it will be on Saturday 15th May at 4pm on VH1 and Sunday 16th May at 11am on Viva. So do watch, let me know what you think. I had fun!
I’m now on Monday – yes, thanks, I had a great weekend - off to ITV to watch An Audience with Michael Bublé. I’ve watched Michael Bublé – he was bloody fantastic, I’m sorry. No, I’m not sorry at all. No going back and forth, no ‘can we go back and do this again’, a true professional and a real showman. He actually made my groin twinge. He didn’t come back to the after show party, but I was mingling with them all. Check out the pics. I don’t need to name them, from the Nolans through to the Willoughby.
Talking of Willoughby, I can’t get away from her on the circuit at the moment. I saw her at the press night of Sweet Charity with the gorgeous Tamsin Outhwaite, who was fabulous, may I add. And you can’t beat Stephen Mear for choreography; if you want to see a bit of real musical theatre, I suggest you go and see this, sweet, Sweet Charity.
Oh, there goes my phone - it’s my car. Oh yes, I get sent cars! I’m off to Attitude’s Sweet 16 birthday. It should be fun, full of gorgeous gays and girls. I’ll let you know how it goes in the next blog.
Toodle-oo. Toodle-oo! Toodle-oo then! X