Blowing My Own Horn

What a triumph, bring on the fanfare! God knows, I deserve it. Now you know I wouldn't normally blow my own trumpet, or have anyone blow it for me. Well, depending who it is, darling! But I must admit the O2 was truly a huge challenge, which I thought we would never get through.

As you know, all of us here at the wonderful world of Pineapple have real jobs. Hold on, Laura has just given me a bemused look; I think I just read her mind. What the look says is, we all have real jobs and you just fart around giving us more to do. It’s o.k., she has just given me one of her beautiful big smiles to tell me how much she loves me, that her life wouldn't be worth living without me, and she couldn't get through the job if I wasn't by her side. Which is great; because I have a whole load of emails I've got to ask her to write for me when I finish this blog.

Back to the O2, back to me. As you all know from my previous blogs, there was minimal rehearsal and in fact there was none for me. What we did have was a run through for the acts, so they knew which order they were going in, and if the dancers needed a costume change, how much time they would need before they got back on stage.

But for me, being the thread to their ripped cloth, having to sew each act together and make it seamless, there ended up being no time to iron out the creases. Being the true professional, I didn’t scream, I didn’t shout, I just took a deep breath and did not release it until Friday morning at 8.30, when I arrived at the O2.

It was the first time I got to see the set; there were mirror balls the size of small galaxies swinging from the ceiling (I haven’t seen balls that big swinging from the ceiling in a long time). Straight away, I knew I was going to be fabulous! With my reflection spinning in those balls millions of times, how could we fail? Big balls and me: a show made in heaven!

The rest of the cast started to arrive: Andrew, PDG, and Wizard Sleeve - I know, pretty disgusting isn’t it? I only just found out what it means. If you don’t know what it means, look it up - nothing that can’t be fixed by those designer vagina surgeons that are out there now. There really is someone for everything nowadays, it’s pretty amazing, and I do love it. Anyway it’s far too early for me to be talking about vaginas, not really my area of expertise, and I’ve only just eaten my porridge.

Then I heard the shrill tones of Trisha! Oh, it’s all too much! But hold on, was I seeing things? Could it get any worse? It was DVD! And I don’t mean a disc you slip into your player. No, ladies and gentlemen, it was no other than David Van Day. Yes! Some of you younger ones might know him from I’m A Celebrity, Never Let Him Out Of There (Please), or some of us more mature crowd (but still looking bloody good) will remember him as part of the dynamic duo Dollar. Mind you, not worth a bloody cent nowadays.

Get me to my dressing room, I needed to centre myself and focus on the day ahead. First things first, costumes out! Well, I say costumes; see I thought it would be better if I supplied my own wardrobe. I needed to be comfortable and feel at home. So, every low cut v neck tee shirt I possessed was at hand, along with a couple of pairs of knee-high socks, because they look great with heels, don’t ask me why. Do ask me why, actually. It’s because I can; the heels that is. I can walk in them, I can high kick in them, and I look bloody good in them, so I thought, why not? Two pairs of shorts, one small and white, one very tight in red leather; I say leather, they’re pleather. That’s pretend leather to anyone who doesn’t know, but they look like leather from a distance; one pink gym-slip dress; one silver cat-suit, zip up front; two blond wigs, and a buoy. And I don’t mean a living, breathing boy, well not as part of the costume; I mean the ones that can save your life in the sea - you know the red things that bob up and down.

I’m not going to take you through the dress rehearsal; it was a disaster, absolute disaster. People coming on and off at the wrong time, sets getting stuck on the stage, stage hands with halitosis and bad b.o. and me, having to link it all together, totally unscripted of course. Because apparently, so I’m told, my genius is my quick wit and my sense of humour; and believe me, it was needed. They do say a bad dress run, a great show, but this was a calamitous disaster! With only one hour to go before the doors opened I really was questioning whether we should have just kept the show as we originally agreed, to something small and intimate, just for family and friends who really would be forgiving and love us, whatever disaster we would deliver.

But that wasn’t the case, and the show must go on. So I told everyone how fabulous they were, that the show was going to be a triumph and a success, that we were wonderful, talented people, and we could do this, if we all believed! I could almost hear myself speaking in an American accent and telling everyone that God loves them. God help me, because I was truly lying. Oh, and of course I didn’t knock on Trisha’s door; give me some credit!

Before I knew it, there I was wearing my costume, having my mic fitted in my dressing room, along with a few friends. I’m not naming names - Emma Bunton; Jade Jones; Antony Cotton; Jason Gardiner, to name but a few. But the most important of them all, was my beautiful husband, Leto.

No time for them to tell me how fabulous I was going to be and not to worry, it was going to be amazing. It was show time - Lights, Camera, Action - an hour and a half of pure entertainment! Everyone WAS fabulous and truly pulled it out of the bag. I can’t remember a thing, but I was told that, yes, I was genius, and the show was a huge success.

We did it! Yeah! Way to go! Sorry, it’s that American voice in my head again. Everyone was elated and brimming with self-adoration, but not me, I didn’t have time. Being the true professional that I am I couldn’t go to the after show party with celebrities and big wig producers; no, it was straight home for me. I had a script to learn on Saturday for my small, featured cameo in the first of hopefully many feature films; which, may I add, was another success.

I filmed this on Sunday morning alongside Mandy Moore who was absolutely charming, I loved her. She’s another NBF.

Oh! So I presume you all watched Celebrity Juice on Thursday? I had a fun time, as those of you who watched it could see. I loved my little sketch with Keith Lemon; I can be butch when I try! Talking of butch, so yesterday afternoon (Monday) I did a nude shoot! Yes! Well, all apart from a pineapple in front of my bits and pieces; it was for Cosmo magazine.

There are a few celebrities who have done it, because that’s what I am now, apparently, a celeb! It’s to raise awareness for a very important issue, testicular cancer. Yes, for all you boys who are reading this; get in a hot bath and check your balls! They should feel nice and smooth. Any kind of lumps or swelling, don’t wait ‘til it’s too late, get them checked! Oh dear, look at me getting all serious about balls. Or if not, just email me and I’ll come round and check them! Your choice!

So that was Monday, and all everyone needs to do today is go out and buy Heat magazine, which has a nice 4 page spread with me and the rugby players I told you about.





And also get More magazine, so you can read the interview with me and the fabulous Alan Carr. What are you still doing reading? You should already be up by now, running to the shop to buy the magazines.

Oh, and don’t forget the Sun as well, my dad just rang me to tell me that I’m in it today. Honestly, this is so much fun, I’m pissing my pants; it’s too funny that everyone is showing such interest in me! And honestly, if I have to sleep with another journalist! It’s killing me!

Love and kisses,

Louie

P.S. Grazia Grazia for the fantastico article in this week's issue!

Sun-bloody-tastic!

Well that's it, then, isn't it? I’ve made it - I’ve hit the big time - a double page spread in the Sun! First thing this morning the phone rings, it's my mum, she says ‘Oh my God Louie, you are so bloody famous! Have you seen the Sun?’ I'm like, ‘Seen it? I bought every copy!’

You see, to us, and when I say us I mean the people of Great Britain, well, it's a bible, isn't it? I mean, from Croydon to the Costas, everyone buys the Sun, and if you say you don't, you're lying. And even if you don't buy it, we’ve all seen you suits have a quick spy on page 3 when it’s left on the train on the way home.

I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it, in modern day living? 20p for a paper, and something you can read in comfort, not like those newspapers as long as a carriage for which you need a degree in folding to turn the page.

We've all seen them, haven't we, on the train, flipping it this way, flapping it that way, bending it, in bending it out (and that’s just the paper)? I mean, really, it's unnecessary.

For those of you who haven’t tried to read one of those papers (the big ones I'm talking about, that take up a carriage), well, in fact I think they can take up your life. Because by the time you get to what they are trying to say, it's been that long-winded for them to get to the point, you forget what you started to read in the beginning. And I can guarantee you, normally it will end in some word as long as the alphabet that no one has ever heard, not even the journalist, I’m sure.

But my point is… I've made it! A double page spread in the Sun, and apart from my mum ringing me first thing this morning, my cousin Ashley on the burger van has just texted me saying all the lorry drivers are raving about my spread; they can't get enough of me. I did ask if one of them was called Dave, that’s the only lorry driver I’ve ever met.

I said, give them a burger on me, darling, I’m on me way up! I'll send you a cheque in the post.

Oh, one other thing, because I’m not meant to be blogging today, I’m meant to be rehearsing for the O2. I have told u about the O2 haven't I?

I had a fabulous evening at Celebrity Juice - I was on Fearne's team, you’ll see tonight who wins. Holly had Louis Walsh and Louise Redknapp on her team, and Fearne had the personality (me) and the comic genius Paddy McGuinness.

You see, there was a problem – what with all the Lous in the house, and I don’t mean the ones you p*** in, Keith would ask a question starting with 'Lou', and before he had a chance to finish it, I answered straight away (because I read the Sun, you see, so I knew all the answers).

I didn't give him a chance to end the name in Lou-is or Lou-ise; all I needed to hear was a Lou, and without missing a beat, 5, 6, 7, 8, I blurted out the answer, giving them a point.

Honestly, my mouth sometimes, I must learn to breathe. Or just hold my breath, it would help, I think, in these situations; or just keep my mouth shut!

And on that note, I’m shutting up and going to rehearse for the O2, which is tomorrow night. I have mentioned the O2, haven’t I? I’m not nervous about it, the O2 that is.

'Til next week!

Love you and leave you, xxx

What, Not Me?

Morning all! I've finally got five minutes! I'm flat out at the moment, what with the O2 show coming up on Friday. So, Absolute Radio was a blast! Iain Lee was very nice. He could be Jack you know, he's that tall, and I'd climb his beanstalk in a flash - and after ten minutes in the studio with me I think he would have been quite happy for me to do so.

I don't know what it is, I don't know what I've got, I don't know what I do with these boys, but their feminine side comes cascading out! It's no joke; after ten minutes with them I'm swimming in femininity! And if it wasn't for me pulling back and putting on my masculine side, I don't know what might happen. I think this is all in my head, but I'm just going with it!

So that was Friday. On Saturday I popped down to see Mum and Dad - they were having a photo shoot with Braintree and Witham Times; remember I told you about that in my last blog? It's local press, you've got to do it.

We went into town, me and Pat that is (my mum), because she wanted to go a new shop that has just opened. To them it's like our Selfridges on Oxford Street, but believe me it's not like our Selfridges at all, it's affordable if you're on benefits - just how I like it. So, it was the big opening and they had someone to cut the ribbon. Guess who? Go on, have a guess!

Let me tell you. When I was driving through town, because I have to do this to get to Pat and John's, I passed the Co-op, and next to the Co-op is an alley that goes into the centre of town. I saw a big queue of people going back to the fish and chip shop and I thought to myself, don't tell me Pat's got the word out that I'm coming home!

It's got to be for me, hasn't it? I can't think of anyone else from Braintree who's been hanging out with Kate Moss and been spoken about by Robbie Williams and Kylie Minogue. She did that on Twitter you know; she said 'All hail Louie Spence'. For a gay man, it's like being knighted. I should be calling myself Dame Louie after that, really, shouldn't I?

Then I thought, Ah! It’s most probably Stan Thorogood opening other DIY / builders’ merchants, and he's got cut down prices on plastic ponds and garden sheds. That will always create a crowd, and I'll tell you why. They're used as extra living space (the sheds that is, not the ponds). My nephew used to live in the garage at the bottom of the garden; it gets to a point where the council won't move you on anymore you know, no matter how big the family gets. And believe me they do like to breed in Braintree. That's why the garden sheds are popular - extra living space you see, it's very simple!

So, back to the big crowd by the Co-op; it wasn't for me at all! Pat hadn't got the word out. It was bloody Olly Murs, from X-Factor, muscling in on my home town! He's from Witham, a town five miles up the road. I suppose I'll let him have this one, it's fine. Anyway I'm far too busy to be opening shops, I just wanted a bit of quiet time with my mum and dad and my sisters.

I did create a bit of a storm though on entering this new store. I don't suppose it had anything to do with the fact that I was high kicking and back flipping and shouting ‘I’m here, anyone want a photo?' Not really, I didn't do high kicks and back flips. I just asked if anyone wanted a photo, but not to a great response. Maybe if I'd sung 'Twist and Shout' I might have got a bit more attention.

Sunday, at home with my gorgeous husband, and I cooked a lovely roast, compliments of M&S, all ready made. Early to rise Monday morning! Chris Moyles, Radio 1 - I think I've made it! Chris was excited to see me, I was excited to see him, and we all had fun. I'm sure all of you who listened would agree.

I was a bit unsure about Chris before I met him, because I've seen him with some people, he can be very hard. But, like I say, I've got that something, haven't I? I bring out their softer side, and he was an absolute teddy bear. I think I might even have a little Chris crush - that's a mouthful for me.



Tuesday (keep up with me), I got Keith Lemon in, doing a spectacular dance routine with me, which is going to be used for a VT on this Thursday's Celebrity Juice - of which I am on the panel. This is Tuesday morning. Tuesday afternoon, vroom vroom, vroom vroom vroom, I got the Carr in.



Yes, girls and gays, THE Alan Carr parked up in my penthouse. That's Studio 79 - we call it the penthouse because it's at the top of the building. We had a quick chat for More magazine, slipped him into some pink legwarmers, quick photoshoot, tour around the building and sent him on his way. You can only imagine the innuendos flying back and forth between us. Honestly, it wasn't camp at all!

So here I am, Wednesday morning. I'm off to go and do a very rough run of the show. You know the show? I have mentioned it, haven't I - The O2? I know, it's a worry every time I mention it, it's got to that point now where I get that loose sort of feeling in my stomach, and I can only relieve the anxiety when I fart! Ooh, that's me off; I shouldn't have had the lentils last night, always leaves the air a bit thick after a good old fart.

Right, I can't breathe now. Speak soon; it may not be until after the O2, I don't know!

Ta ra xx

C*L*BR*TY

I couldn't resist! So, as you all know, Kate Moss is a huge fan of the show, and although I've got a busy schedule I did find time to meet up with her last night. And, can I just say, she was an absolute blast! And, yes, she is as stunningly beautiful in the flesh - but I tell you, more importantly, she was real. None, of that celebrity pretentious shit; well, not with me anyway.

Gasp! Does this mean that I'm on her level? You know the word I'm trying to say! C*L*BR*TY! Deep breaths! No! Well, maybe! I know I haven't done Vogue, yet, but I think I'm going to be on the cover of the Braintree and Witham Times this week. That's the local newspaper where my mum and dad, Pat and John live.

Anyway, let me tell you the reason I dare to gasp the word C*L*BR*TY about myself - I'm going to make this short. Last night, I'm with 'The Moss!' Well, actually, I got so close to her, at the end of the night we decided I'm just going to call her 'Mmmmmm'. Oh, don't let me forget, she had her gorgeous boyfriend with her as well, Jamie Hince - he's in a band called The Kills. I didn't know that! But he was also very nice, in fact, he was bloody hot!

Back to me; so I'm out with Mmmmmm, then I get a text from Miss Bunton telling me that she is at Robbie Williams’s intimate, private gig, and he is talking about me on stage! I'm sorry, I know the word C*L*BR*TY gets thrown around all willy nilly nowadays, but forgive me if I dare to gasp the word.

But in such company, I think I'm allowed, aren't I? At least, just for one night!

I was going to invite them back for a cup of tea, but I had no milk in. And her downstairs, she always moans when I have girls round; the noise of their heels on the laminate flooring penetrates right through.

As we left, security asked me if I would like to be taken out the rear! Gasping once more, and it wasn't for the word C*L*BR*TY that time, I replied, 'No, I'll be exiting by the front door tonight, thank you.'

And I didn't even get a flash! Let alone papped!

Right, that's me done, I wasn't meant to be blogging today, I'm far too busy. I'm off to do Absolute Radio.

TV, Radio, Press! Really!

My Head Is In A Spin!

As Kelly Marie sang in her '80's hit, my head is in a spin, my feet don't touch the ground. And there have been so many people near to me my head is going round and round, my knees are shaking, my heart is beating like a drum! Boom Boom! Boom Boom!

In fact it almost exploded (my heart, that is) when I was sprawled across the Saracens scrum on Tuesday morning. I said scrum, although I was swimming in ecstasy! Actually I was quite prepared to let myself drown. They were a burly bunch of public school boys with buns of steel and thighs you couldn't wrap your arms around. And believe me, I tried.

Sorry, let me keep you in the loop, I'm getting far too carried away with myself. It's the Saracens I'm talking about; they are a professional rugby team in St. Albans. This is the photo shoot for Heat magazine, my four page spread, which I believe will be out on 30th March. Don't miss it, believe me, it's hot! It was well worth the hour and a half car journey up there. I'd recommend it to anyone!

Oh, by the way, I had a fabulous audition for my feature film. Well, it's not my feature film, it is Mandy Moore and Martin Freeman who are the stars, but I got the part! Can you believe it? Honestly, I can't! Admittedly they were looking for someone quite flamboyant (gay), so maybe it wasn't down to my acting skills at all. But I don't care! I'll be high kicking and back flipping all the way down the red carpet at the premier.

That was on Monday - I know my days aren't in order on this blog, but like I said, Kelly Marrrrrie! Let's try and get my days in order.
Wednesday: Alan Titchmarsh (who I kept referring to as Alan Tit-Marsh, oops) and Celebrity Juice, all in one day. I know, there's not enough of me, is there? So, I arrive at the BBC, where I'm quite a regular nowadays what with my Harry Hill appearances week after week.

On the way in, I bumped into Gabby Logan (actually I didn't bump into her at all, she made a bee line straight for me), who said how fabulous I was, and said I should be a household name. I said, ‘I'm working on it Gabby’. I nearly said, it was on the tip of my tongue, 'Do you want me to lay across your husband's back in a scrum?' (Because I'm good at that now.) But I didn't, I stopped myself, it wasn't the time or the place to discuss that type of thing. I needed to be shown to my dressing room quick sticks.

Notice how I said 'my' dressing room? Can you all take note of that? Well, it wasn't mine at all. Also appearing on the show alongside me was PDG (Pineapple Dance Group). Now, it's not that I mind sharing with twelve dancers, but when I do Harry Hill I have the same dressing room as Jay-Z, Beyoncé, and the GaGa. I do believe in consistency; I'll get my agent to have a word.

Anyway, one of the PDs or ADs or VDs, I don't know what they are, they all have titles in TV, gave me a little rundown of what was going on in the show. Well, I thought I was going to sit on the sofa and have a chat with Alan about perennial borders, but no! After PDG had done their dance I was to walk on, centre stage of course, where Alan would be standing in a very respectable suit and do a few moves with him and the warm-up guy.

I didn't let her see my dismay at not being on the sofa; we were taken to the studio and I worked out why I wasn't. Well! Lulu had slipped her way in; because she's very slight you know. She's tiny in fact. I suppose that was the confusion, us both being Lou's and tiny and slight - I just assumed they meant me in the script, not the Scottish dynamite.

Mind you, alarm bells should have rung when I overheard one of the PDs or ADs or VDs, whatever you call them, talking about Lulu's interview (which I presumed was me), mentioning how well Lulu was looking, not having had any surgery. I thought, that's a lie, everyone knows I've been 'toxed and filled, I've got nothing to hide! When they mentioned I was married to John Frieda and that the key to my youthful looks was a good bob, it made me wanna shout 'Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel!' But I didn't, I just gasped and held my breath - for about a minute.

Yes, it was the other Lulu! She was plugging some book or something, I don't know, I didn't have time to listen anymore.

I was taken backstage to prepare for my entrance - 5, 6, 7, 8, I'm on! Alan briefly mentioned the O2 show that I'm hosting and then asked me to teach him some dance moves. Obviously I started high-kicking and back flipping. Well, I thought if I'm only on for three minutes I'm going to make the most of it, he certainly won't be high-kicking or flipping! And as for the audience, lovely as they were, after my little escapade they all needed to plug in to recharge their pacemakers. Maybe I was just a bit too much. What do you think?

Swiftly, moving on to Riverside Studios, Hammersmith, for Celebrity Juice, with Keith Lemon, Holly Willoughby and Fearne Cotton; much more my cup of tea. They were all alive, not plugged in to their pacemakers. Now, this was more like it, I had my own dressing room with a fridge full of drinks! Not that I drink, I can't do any stimulants, you can imagine!

I also had some lovely treats, face cream, chocolate and body scrub, all free. There was also one of those sweet smelling candles that wasn't for taking, but it wasn't nailed down so I took it anyway. Not even time to fart and I was on set - I'm not on the panel this week, I'm poking my head through a couple of holes and coming out of a closet. As you can imagine, it was a riot!

So it's Alan Tit-Marsh (I mean Titchmarsh) today, ITV1 at 5pm, and Celebrity Juice tonight at 10pm on ITV2. I'll be on the panel of Celebrity Juice next week, or maybe not, they might change their minds - who knows? Maybe I shouldn't have stuck my tongue down Keith Lemon's throat and spread my legs so wide on his desk. But hey-ho, I did!

Love you and leave you, I'm back off to the Beeb to see my old friend Harry, who always gives me my own dressing room. You can see how that went for yourself on Saturday, of course if you have nothing better to do than watch me!

xxx

What a Wonderful World!

You need to keep up to speed, I'm not backtracking. Things are moving way too fast and I'm riding it like a rocket!

As I said when I left you last, I had two press interviews and I was off to Harry Hill. The press interview was fabulous! I terrorised a very handsome young cameraman who was filming the whole thing for Sky Magazine. I know I shouldn't but I just couldn't help myself.

I was then whisked off to Harry Hill; lucky you're not sitting in front of me while I say 'whisked' this early in the morning. Honestly, you would need a shield in front of your face like they use at the hairdressers before they attack you with Elnett. It takes a bit of time for my tongue to warm up in the morning, but everything else is fine.

As those of you who were watching Harry Hill would have seen, my pussy was quite impressive, once I'd choked up my fur ball. I'm getting to feel quite at home with Harry, me old mate! Sorry, I should say award winning Harry Hill! Anyway, enough about him, back to me.

Friday morning, a meeting about the O2 show, which I will be hosting. Have I told you about that or not? Yes, yes, yes! I'm hosting the O2! I'm trying not to think about it too much at the moment, it's one day at a time. And talking about time, I ain't got time to think about it!

Let me tell you about Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I'm going to make this quick, because I want to get back to today, Monday, so I can run you through my busy schedule.

Friday, after the O2 meeting (did I mention I'm hosting the O2?) - oh, I did? Fine. At 6 O'clock I met Carmine at The Ivy - sorry, how could I miss out Laura? (gasp!) - me, Laura and Carmine. Do I need to explain that Carmine is Jake Canuso, who plays the waiter in the hit show Benidorm, which I have already mentioned in one of my blogs?

So, it was burger and chips for me and Carmine, and two bottles of rosé, thank you very much - Laura was on her liquid diet again, as per usual. I know why I always have a two glass of wine quota - because I just lose myself; like I'm not pretty full on anyway.

Let me tell you what happened. There I was on my third glass of rosé when a very handsome TV executive (I presume, because I'm very big in TV circles at the moment - apparently I'm hot, hot, hot!) said to me 'I'm loving you in your show'. I didn't interject and tell him that it isn't my show - there's a whole load of other people in it.

I pointed to his friend and said very theatrically and loudly, 'And I love Gary Lucy!' With an awkward laugh he made his way back to his friend. Carmine had tears of laughter rolling down his face at this point, for a reason unbeknown to me, until he caught his breath enough to spit out that it wasn't Gary Lucy at all, it was Will Mellor, from Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps, thank you very much. Oh well, shit happens!

On finishing my third glass of rosé, that naughty Miss Bunton (that's Emma Bunton, I have mentioned her, haven't I, that she's one of my best friends?) called to ask if we would like to join her at another bar for a few drinks? We agreed and got out of there as quick as poss, after my Gary Lucy / Will Mellor mistake at The Ivy Club.

Oh dear, the fresh air hit, I got that floating-on-air feeling and I couldn't quite get my tongue around my lisp. Now that's a worry. It was water all the way for me from then on, and another wonderful evening with Miss Bunton and her gorgeous partner Mr Jade Jones, who we all love.

Oh, did I mention? We were also with Leigh Francis, better known as Keith Lemon or Avid Merrion, who you can imagine is also great fun to be out with! I managed 'til about midnight with these guys. I know it all sounds very glamorous being at a private members' club in Berkeley Square, but when you've got a schedule like mine you've got to know when it's time to go, and it was about midnight for me.

Early to rise, on Saturday I popped down to Move It at Olympia in London, which was great. I watched some amazing dancers and loads of people came up to me and said how much they are enjoying the show. Everyone was so lovely!

Sunday I spent with my gorgeous husband (because I am married you know - well, civil partnership) who helped me go through my lines for my audition today for a feature film. Did I mention? Oh, I didn't? I'll let you know how it all goes.

Gotta go now, I need to look at my script one more time. I'll come back to you as soon as I can, and I'll fill you in (not literally) about my other commitments this week, like my shoot for a two double-pages spread in Heat magazine, the Alan Titchmarsh Show, Celebrity Juice, and my many radio interviews.

Who would have thought it? So much interest in a 40 year old, well-toned may I add, homosexual! What a wonderful world we live in!

xxx

Slipping Into One

What day is it anyway?! They're all just slipping into one. Normally I know where I am, I don't slip in and out so easily. Right, it's Thursday; I'm not going to start with Today, I'm going back to Wednesday. No, I lie, I'm going back to Tuesday night.

Wardrobe dilemmas! I mean, it's going to be a low-cut v - I think it's expected now, isn't it? I've got one in every colour; I've got your blue, your pink, your red, your brown, your emerald green. I no longer have the bottle green; I gave that to Matthew Wright, didn't I? Got the yellow - I mentioned the red didn't I? Sorry about that.

So, in my mind I've got - Oh, I didn't mention I've got it in white, the low-cut v that is! As I was saying, in my head I was gonna wear (this is for Attittude magazine by the way) my grey jeans from Uniqlo (they're the T000, the skinny fit, 'cause I can, so I do, why wouldn't I?), with the white low-cut v and a shocking pink cardigan. And believe me, it was shocking; when I put it on I was looking for the off button, it was that bright! Or that could be to do with my eco-friendly light bulb which takes a while to brighten up. Does anyone else find that with them bulbs? You have to wait for about five minutes before you can see yourself!

Anyway, I wasn't convinced, so I just packed my bag with every low-cut v that I had, a pair of dark blue jeans, just in case, and a pair of clean underwear. They might have wanted me to strip down to my underpants, which I would have refused to do of course, unless the photographer was really cute and he pressured me into it - there's always exceptions.

Bag packed and done, hot bath (with bubbles), straight to bed.

Thursday morning, 9 o'clock, me and Laura, meeting the girls from More magazine. More, More, More, how do you like it, how do you like it? More, More, More! They loved it!

I gave them a quick tour and gave the Beauty Editor a few tips for her husband about chest-hair removal. Apparently he's shaving when he should be Veet-ing - you see, you don't get in-grown hairs my way. And I also gave her a few more tips on hair removal for him in places he may not be attending to but should be. You know. I don't need to go down there do I? But that's down to her, I can't sort it out for him - well, I could, but I won't. I think that's for her and him to discuss, but I will let you know if she gets back to me with a positive result!

Anyway, she's my new best friend, and she says she has a whole cupboard at the More office full of beauty products, which I will be visiting promptly to fill up my bag. Even if I don't want it I'm sure my sisters could knock it out for a good price down the council estate.

Oh, hold on, hold on, I've got someone waving at me - it's one of the producers. Let me just throw him a fish, 'cause that's what he looks like, a frantic seal at feeding time.

I'll have to make this last bit quick. The photoshoot went well, I ended up in yellow (low-cut v that is), we were all in agreement that was the right choice for the Spring issue. The photographer and the two guys from Attitude were great to work with and made me feel very good about myself. Because it's always a worry, when you're getting a bit thick around the middle, being flashed at from every angle - by the photographer that is, not the two guys from Attitude. I should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, as Miss Minogue would say.

Oh look, I've reeeeeally got to go, the seal is still out there waving. Now I just want to throw a net over them and drown the lot. I'll have to tell you later about today's two press interviews and my trip back to Harry Hill, which I'm going to be on again this week; all I've got to say is, look out for my big pussy!

I might just do a video blog tomorrow! What do you think? I'm off, I'm going. Ta-ra!

They Don't Get Much Bigger

I need to fill you in with what happened. A couple of weeks back Laura received a phone call at Pineapple asking her who deals with my diary. Laura promptly replied 'what diary?', as I don't have one. Well, I didn't - I do now, it's Laura!

Anyway, she took this person's phone number and I called back and enquired in my business voice, which is the same as my everyday voice, camp with a lisp, 'Who is this person who wants to take me to lunch, and what have they done?’

Well, once I checked him out on Google - actually I'm lying again, I didn't check him out; it was my ghost writer C, who is also a computer genius. In fact, I don't think there's anything he can't do. Oh, I must tell you about this raw food diet he's on at the moment, it's amazing. He's lost a whole person! Sorry, I digress, back to my TV executive.

After reading what he has done I felt like I'd had my prostate poked, it was that exciting! Honestly, it left me with stars in my eyes. I promptly replied, 'Yes, I will do lunch, as long as it's free and at The Ivy' - well, that is where everyone goes, isn't it? His P.A. did give me a date but I said I was busy. I wasn't really, I was just getting my eyelashes tinted around the corner with my cousin Carly, and that only takes 15 minutes! It's all a game isn't it?

So, anyway, it was yesterday, 1 o'clock. I arrived at 5 to 1, told the maître d’ who I was meeting and to my surprise he was already there, 5 minutes early! I do like a man that is prompt but not premature. So I went straight in there, kiss on both cheeks, didn't care what he was, straight or gay! It makes no difference to me; it's all about the personality.

And what a personality he had, he was an absolute scream! We spoke about my rising star for about two minutes and the rest of the time we were just pissing ourselves, telling each other stories - obviously mine were all x-rated. I didn't think I could be matched, but he hit me with a few belters, let me tell you!

Anyway, lucky for me - I suppose this is always good when you're with a huge TV exec’ - there was a girls' party in the corner, you know, all designer skirts and cheap knickers. Well, they recognized me straight away, could not get enough of me! One of them squeezed next to me on the banquette, with the other one telling me how I made her leak with laughter every time she watched the show. I hope she was wearing a Tena Lady. I loved them, my kind of people, real.

But honestly, it was like we were in Calabria, and Don Corleone and the mafia were on them! The maître d’ and two maître downs (I don't know what you call them when they're not the maître d’, they're aspiring to be) were trying to clear them away from our table with a look of panic of their faces. The maître d’ was frantically apologising in a French accent and my TV executive whispered in my ear, ‘He's not French, I've seen him somewhere.’ I thought I bet you have.

Anyway, it works out he was from somewhere like Barnsley, I can't remember. When the girls were finally pushed away from our table he said in his French Barnsley accent that they had 'slipped through the net'. Thank God I'm agile; otherwise I would never have got in! Mind you, a net has never stopped me before, no matter how big or small.

What I'm trying to say, let's not beat around the bush, is that I had a wonderful lunch with a TV exec’ who wasn't a wanker and didn't feel the need to impress me. And believe me, after a great lunch of bangers and mash and sticky toffee pudding with extra toffee sauce, the last thing you want is someone feeding you bullshit.

Oh, but I did make it very clear to him that if we ever do work together in the future, he will be rinsed! Rinsed! Darling, I'll put him through the spin dryer!

Who knows, I might even own my own Housing Association flat, and move up from a Hyundai i10 (5 years warranty may I add) to an i30. I'm just going with the flow!

I need to go now, I've got to drop the kids off at the pool, and I’ve already missed my slot, which is normally 9.30am. It's 10.05am and I'm touching cloth!

Sunny Monday morn'

What a beautiful start to the week! The sun is shining, I'm smiling, it makes me feel that good that I nearly fell into the splits at 8.30am, getting my instant golden syrup flavoured porridge from M and S. But hold up, wait a minute! Let's back up to last week!

Thursday morning, bright and breezy, lemon squeezy, all tits out, me and Matthew Wright. What more can I say? For those of you who were watching, I'm sure you could see how inspired he was by my low-cut v's! I gave him the bottle green one, I thought it matched his purple suit on the day. That was it - as soon as he slipped into it he couldn't stop telling me about his musical theatre escapades in his early twenties.

That's the thing, you see, when you've got it, they all want a bit! He couldn't get enough of me, a push and a shove it could have been me being his new civil partner, as he mentioned he was just entering into one. But I'm not interested, I did mine two years ago - I've got a lovely Spaniard!

I was made to feel very welcome, but I must say I was nervous about reading from the papers. It's my stage school education; we weren't interested in academics, we just wanted to sing and dance!

What happens with me you see, when I get nervous, is trapped wind! It's quite difficult sitting there for an hour and a half when it feels like you've got the dancers from the Lido doing the can-can in your stomach.

Honestly, when I left that studio I didn't need the chauffeur driven Mercedes with blacked out windows (stop me already if I'm sounding like a wanker, but I did love it!) All I needed to do was release the fart and I could have ended up in L.A. instead of the BBC studios, where I was taken straight down to my very plush dressing room, with en-suite, may I add! Honestly, it was bigger than my housing association flat!

We ran through the script for the things I needed to do. Oh, I haven't told you, this is Harry Hill now darlings, come on, keep up! For those of you who watched my debut with the fabulous Harry Hill, I sang my way around the West End of London, ending with a rap about Croydon. I think I was inspired by the residue of Jay Z, who was the previous occupant of my dressing room. I thought I was pretty ghetto fabulous, don't you?! I said to Harry, all we need now is Kate Moss, whack her in the video and we've got a number 1 single!

Because I am on first name terms with people like Harry now you see, like I'm sure I would be with Jonathan Ross if I went on his show, he would just be Jonny, or J, but I'm not going on his show. With our speech impediments we'd just end up spitting at each other all the time.

Mind you, he is leaving the Beeb, isn't he? They'll most likely ask me to do his job, you know, like for like. I know his impediment is a 'w' and mine is a 's' but it's still a speech impediment, isn't it? But I can't, I'm far too busy - I'm on reception at Pineapple. I can't be everywhere, can I? Let's just quickly jump to Friday, Angela and Friends.

Some friend she is, she weren't even there! She was in L.A. doing the Oscars! I didn't mind, I got to sit on the sofa with Jeremy Edwards, so cute, and he smelled lovely! And, yes, I fell into the splits again! Someone stop me! I'm jumping straight to Friday night now.

Around 6.30pm, I met up with my oldest friend Carmine; some of you may know him as Jake Canuso, the sexy Spanish waiter in the hit ITV show Benidorm, which is written by another good friend of mine, Derren Litten. Derren also did all the best Catherine Tate sketches. Ooh, am I name dropping? Leaving Carmine, who went on to the theatre, I then met another good friend of mine, Emma.

Did I mention that she's my best friend, Emma Bunton, Spice Girl? Why wouldn't she be, when she buys me a Rolex and a diamond-studded Cartier bracelet? I'm not complaining! No, apart from the lavish gifts (oh, did I mention the holidays to the Bahamas?) she is one of the most genuine and beautiful people with a big heart. But don't cross her! She won't forget, so I don't (and I'm sure the gifts would stop coming).

She bought me one rosé too many and left me stumbling across Waterloo bridge making my way home, where it was a toasted cheese and pickle sandwich and straight to bed for me.

Saturday and Sunday I didn't really do much apart from watch myself on Harry Hill on Saturday, watch myself on Pineapple Dance Studios on Sunday, and then caught myself again on Harry Hill straight after. Not that I was watching the repeat for me, there was just nothing else on. It's got to be better than Songs of Praise, hasn't it?

Anyway, listen, love you and leave you. I am doing a reality show! I'm just off to keep it real. Look out kids! We've only just got started!

Pump up your jam!

I’ve finished pumping up the biceps at the gym – just arrived at Pineapple. I’m having a quick download with Annika, Caleb and Laura about my goings on, so I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone and let you all know!

I had a really funny morning at The Wright Stuff but I thought it was all going to go wrong when they said they wanted me to read something from The Guardian. I’ve never even had my chips wrapped in it, let alone read it! But my saving grace was The Sun, when the next story I had to read out was about some man who had an erection for three weeks. I didn’t need to read the story, I just thought it was unnecessary and greedy, and it’s sure to make your blood pressure drop. And that’s not good for anyone, is it? Is it?

Then things really got moving! The third story was about twelve year old boys not using condoms, so they’ve made extra small ones for them. Like any twelve to fourteen year old boy is going to ask for an extra small condom. It’s something us boys learn very quickly, when it comes to the size of your willy, we all know the average inch triples. I’m sure that many of you ladies out there have found that out and gone straight back to your bunnies!

And don’t get me sidetracked about topiary down there. For the men I mean! It’s just unnecessary – I mean, you can gain at least three inches if you trim back. Anyway, back to me, sorry, I’m sidetracking.

I really shouldn’t be talking about this kind of thing at 9.20am, when I’m off to do Angela and Friends with her nice Ikea set. There’s nothing wrong with Ikea but I must admit Habitat does last longer. It does cost a little bit more, but you do get what you pay for!

It’s like me; my personal appearance fee was, well, whatever I could get! Now look at me! Send me an Addison Lee, cheese and pickle sandwich and a packet of salt and vinegar, I’m there like lightning. Brown wholemeal bread of course!

Apparently they are doing something fashiony today with A&F (Angela and Friends, you’ve got that, haven’t you?) They took my sizes and everything over the phone. I hope they don’t try and get me anything designer, like your Gucci’s or your Prada’s.

I’m much happier in a Top Man, Zara, or Primani. I tell you why – because they fit! I find their sizes accurate, unlike your top end designers, who will say it’s a small when really it’s a medium. And you know why this is? Because those people with that kind of disposable income always get told what they want, even about their appearance, and I think it’s wrong, don’t you? You get down Top Man and I tell you what you get there. Some bloody good looking staff that you want to put on an intravenous drip!

And on that note, I’m off to Top Man!

What a week so far!

What a week so far! Everyone wants a piece of me now, don't they (not that I mind)!

I don't know if I find it fascinating or not, that everyone is so intrigued with the everyday goings on in my world!

It does make me smile that we are reaching the masses and such a diverse audience, from plumbers to public school boys, prostitutes to prima ballerinas.

As you all know, I don't discriminate against anyone or anything. I believe this leads to a much more exciting life and a better conversation.

You could take me anywhere and I'd just slip in unnoticed, as I'm sure you can all imagine.

For example, this week I've got The Wright Stuff on Thursday morning, which will be featuring a low cut V-neck tee - I've been doing extra work on the cleavage. And if you've got it, like I say, flaunt it! Then, straight on to Harry Hill, and who knows what he'll want to do with me? I know he enjoyed getting his legs over his head on last's week show. Maybe he needs me to show him something a little bit more in-depth. How deep he wants to go is entirely up to him. I'm not going to question!

Then Friday I'm off to A&F (that's an abbreviation of Angela and Friends, for those of you who don't know). I only met her the once, but now I'm her best friend. I'm like that me, people just warm to me, I don't know what it is! Same with Denise van Outen (my nbf) - can't do a tweet without her being on reply. Not that I mind though, I'm more than happy. I do love a blonde with a good sense of humour, and she certainly has that. See, it's another Essex girl. Not that I originate from Essex, it's actually North London, Enfield. It's just that Pat and John moved (that's my Mum and Dad) to Essex when I was four, because they were offered a three bedroom, all double glazed and patio doors at the back. They couldn't refuse, considering we were in a maisonette with one bedroom and four kids, on the back of a railway track. Why wouldn't they take it up?

Right, stop, gotta go! I've got a camera in my face, because I'm doing a reality show. It's all real, none of it's fake! I've got to go and meet and greet. It's not the Sugababes today, nor Beyoncé, not a Spice Girl in sight. And as for Enrique Iglesias I can smell him coming a mile off. As I said, we don't discriminate - it's the Cheeky Girls and David Van Day.

They must be shooting a real-life Most Haunted somewhere. I'll let you know!





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