It all started on the 05.26 Virgin Pedallo to Youston, London. I was stood outside the train while Donna from the Dingle was lettin me know she was in charge an not openin the doors until SHE wanted to, me nips were out like ship rivets I was that cold. You could tell she wanted to be an air hostess by the way she was carryin the black plastic bin liner through the cabin. It was obvious the only 747 she would ever work on is the Liverpool to Youston TRAIN, not PLANE! Skank. Little did Donna know that I had once served Rusty Lee in the premium cabin of a British Airways 'Dreamliner' unlike her serving Bob from Birkenhead carrying a 'Binliner'....
Wasn't long before Donna from the Dingle felt the wrath of the Bevlar! I had her little fat legs run ragged. After all I was in the premium cabin, so she was workin for me! Biatch. I was cheered up when Wayne from Widnes brought me a decent bit of sossige with me hot breakfast, he winked at me as he put it down, it got me moist. I slipped him one of me bizness cards. Still waiting for a call. I was off for a meeting at the ITV towers, I needed some bewty sleep before enterin Youston.
Before I knew it I was home, home at the ITV towers. I had overdosed on Virgin tea so needed to head to the laydees room. This is where I got the shock of me life. Whilst the top of the towers are paved in gold, just a few floors down it was a different story. The lavs were Younisex, all the rage apparentlee these days. O M G. Not a bit of armitage shanks in sight, it was like bein at me local take away, the Wong Wei. I had to hover over a hole in the ground, look.
I was tryin to concentrate and take aim but was distracted by the smell of Paco Rabanne and the sound of someone hummin Daniel O'Donnell songs in the next cubicle. Once I'd finished I was out and dryin me hands when I heard those immortal words 'Hi Orrrr Yiew' The hairs on me back stood on end.....it wasn't was it............was it really the Irish Enrikee Inglazias? The man I'd spent sleepless nights tweeting to? The man who'd exchanged late night pictures of his surgical stockings from his hospital bed.....I turned slowly, I was dripping......the hand dryer had stopped suddenly....there he was, like the man from Del Monte in his labia lilac suit....I was transfixed...then he spoke those immortal words..... 'Hoi orr yiew moy little pint of guinness. Have yoi got any bog roll, there's shoit all in that karzy'.... I didn't have any tissue, but I did have a spare pair of knickers in me handbag. He wiped his brow and was gone like a flash....it was over, or so I thought....
I was in shock...I took a wrong turning, bumped into a camp queen with a clip board screamin into a handset 'I found it, it's in leopard print'....looked at me and said 'classless and on benefits, this way. You're on in 5' as he pushed me through some double doors....there he was again... Eamonn was there before me, Mrs Holmes as always was in tow....she caught my eye with her one good eye....it was a venomous look....was I arsed? I was in the same room as Saint Eamonn of the Holmes, I was gonna milk this....Nobody could have predicted what was to happen next....I avoided queenie with the clip board and hid, I waited for my moment, as Martine McKutchington sang, 'My perfect moment' and it couldn't have gone better.
And cut.....was the final words I heard before all hell broke loose....Rook eyed Ruth had spotted it....what looked like a rather snazzy handkerchief in Eamy's pocked was in fact my intimate wear and she was just about to find out....the crew may have called cut, but the cameras were still rolling. Here it is, caught in full tecknyculor glory....Action.
I was out of that place quicker than wink....I was headin over to Richmond to 'Turner Webster Towers'....
To be continued....
Bev X
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