Louie Spence

Butch Boy

2010-06-11T13:16:00.011+01:00

Something a little bit different this week – me and football. Well, I say different, I was just helping the boys out, the England squad that is, our boys. I was putting a few goal celebrations together for them; I did a few little routines and if any of our boys do one of my little jigs, or their interpretation of, when they score a goal, £1,000 goes towards providing clean water in African schools, and that’s great, isn’t it? It’s all sponsored by Coca Cola. Check it out via this link.

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!

Morning, Noon and Night

2010-06-04T12:59:00.018+01:00

Well I’m sprayed up and ready to go - Factor 30 all the way. I’m not burning in this mini heatwave like I did in the last one. Now, I don’t need to be a weather man (or wo-man) to tell ya this ain’t gonna last, so make the most of it. I’ve got my G-String to hand this week – picture to follow next week.

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.

Arrivederci xxx

Hot Stuff – My Ass!

2010-05-28T17:06:00.019+01:00

Well, it’s not only me that’s hot stuff apparently – Not! What weather we had last weekend! What with me only having a window box – I know I’m flexible and can contort, but not even I can squeeze in between a geranium and a pansy in a window box 40cm x 20cm. Not that I haven’t tried.

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!

Front To Back, Back To Front - How Bizarre

2010-05-21T17:03:00.019+01:00

What a gorgeous day! Look at it – the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and doesn’t it just make you want to say ‘I Love You’? It does, doesn’t it? I often feel like saying it. Actually, I’ve been saying it a lot lately. I keep meeting people, and the first thing that comes out of my mouth is ‘Oh, I Love you!’ That’s the first thing out of my mouth, but in my mind, I’m normally (well, if it’s a really cute guy), great ass, boxers or Calvins, grower or shower? Come on, we all do it!

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.

You know what; I’m confusing myself with this going forward and going back! I’ve got to do my Reveal voiceover at 11am, and it’s already 10.30am. So I’m going to go back to the front, and work my way back to where we are now, if you get me. Breathe.

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!

I was all over them, and I mean all over them. They put on a little talent show which I had to judge. There were questions and answers (I think I gave them a bit more than they needed to know) – it did get a little x-rated to tell you the truth, but I couldn’t help myself.

But it was worth it, they gave me a free Nexus One phone, which is faster than Usain Bolt on getting online and anything else you want to get on and off - It’s amazing. And, on leaving, for some reason I was very popular with the boys again; they all wanted to get their arms around me and get a quick snap. Never one to miss an opportunity, I had a quick little grope myself – something for the wank bank.

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!

Louie xxxx

Shut Up and Drive!

2010-05-13T14:34:00.013+01:00

Don't you just hate it when you get in a taxi (well actually, when I say Taxi, I no longer have taxis, I have drivers) and they just start to talk about a pile of old crap that you really don't give a shit about? All you want do is tell them to shut up. Sorry, I was in the car, if you're wondering where this is coming from, on my way to Attitude's Sweet 16 party. Remember, this is where I left you last time; I was just about to get in the car.

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 Iceland. She doesn’t look like she’s eating it any more, does she? From what I see, she’s in a slim stage at the moment, and it’s not even Christmas yet. That’s when they normally do it, isn’t it, the slim down, in conjunction with the DVD, Getting fit, Not Fat. Then, come February, they normally all pile it straight back on again. See, it’s about consistency and maintenance; I’ll let you know about it when I release my DVD, around Christmas time. One thing I can assure you of, I’ll be looking the same in February, March, April, and right through to my next DVD, the year after. I mean, come on, if this lot can do it, then I certainly can. And I will.

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 6 foot at least 5 of it, which I can’t get over or around. So I just go straight into it. And when I say it, the ‘it’ was that gorgeous hunk of a man, Gareth Thomas, the gay rugby player. I had a quick chat with him about how I’d like to enter his scrum, then it was straight up the stairs, with a quick wave to Adam Lambert, as though I knew him, even though we’ve never met; it was just fun to do. I’ve noticed a lot of people doing that to me now, the wave, like they know me but haven’t got the time. Coat from coat check, a kiss and a cuddle and a high kick with Duncan James on the way out, Flash Flash Flash (that’s the paps), into cab, Flash Flash Flash Flash Flash – honestly, there’s no stopping them, they are naughty. And that’s the Attitude party, done.

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.

XXX

Running Ragged

2010-05-06T13:58:00.019+01:00

Now, I know when I left you I said things should be running more regularly, but they’re not. They’re just not! Nothing seems regular any more – you could set your watch by me being so punctual at dropping the kids off every morning at the pool. When I say I haven’t got time to shit, I mean it; but I’m not complaining.

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?

Wednesday. I don’t mean to make this blog sound like diary entries of the week, but I’m not going to lie to you all, I’m short on time. So, yeah I am doing it like a diary, so just deal with it. Maybe you can, it’s just me, I know - I don’t like to rush things. Typical, isn’t it? I’m talking about not having time, and I’m wasting my time telling you I haven’t got time. Hang on; I just want to get Caleb to slap me. Great, I’m slapped, and I’m back on track.

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

Oh, What a Life, But I Love It!

2010-04-26T15:01:00.017+01:00

Sorry it’s been so long but really, wait til you hear what’s been going on – it’s been glitz and glamour, with a bit of drama. Nothing like me then!

Right here we go – I’m going to start right where I left you. I left you on my birthday, didn’t I? Almost putting Inteflora out of business with all the hanging baskets and bouquets of flowers I received.

Now, my birthday was on Tuesday, wasn’t it? So, Thursday night, just a little something personal with close friends at Chinawhite; well, you see, my friend Charlotte does a night there on Thursdays. When she said, would I like to come down on my birthday, I can have 20 people free to eat plus wine, I jumped at it like a drag queen would at a free pair of fishnets.

Tick tock tick tock – that’s my brain by the way – which twenty people am I going to invite? Have I got 20 people I can invite? I mean, I have a lot of acquaintances – well, now I’ve got thousands of them, but you know, true friends. Yes, I have. I’ve got them all in mind. Well, actually I only got to 18 but that’s fine, it’s quality not quantity, so they say; it’s girth not length - that’s what takes your breath away! No one wants to be annoyed or poked do they? I’m going way off course here, sorry, 18 friends.

Well, of course they all turned up, and we had a fabulous dinner; three courses, no-one skipped a course. Mind you, I did tell them it was for free. I haven’t seen so much wine go so quickly, not a spirit or beer in sight. I’ll tell you why that is, they would have had to pay for them, because I wasn’t going to!

As you can see, all of my friends are like-minded - if it’s free, rinse it; in fact, ring it out. After dinner, we moved on to a lovely private room with our own dj and a few celebrities. I’m not going to name-drop; I’m really not going to this time. If you didn’t see the Sun on Saturday 10th April, where not only was I heavily featured in pictures from my glorious birthday evening, it was in this very issue that I had my first PAGE. Yes! PAGE. Not a column, not a couple of meaningless words, but a whole PAGE!

Jeremy Clarkson was on holiday; not for long though. I don’t think he’ll be taking another day off in his life, not with me racing up his rear, revving my engine like I was in a Bugatti Veyron. What I’m trying to say is, I think it was pretty amazing - I never thought I’d be writing a page for the Sun. I didn’t even get put in for English at school; in fact, I didn’t get put in for any exams. No, I’m lying - I was going to do my art exam, until I got kicked out of the class for telling the teacher she had halitosis. Lucky I didn’t continue, telling her about her greasy hair, and that she stank of piss! I’d have been kicked out of school! And, considering my dad had taken out a second mortgage to send me there (this was when I was at Italia Conti stage school), I think I would have been homeless at a very young age.

Anyway I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I’m going off course, can someone stop me doing this? Right, so that was my birthday dinner party on Thursday 8th of April. 9th, 10th and 11th, getting myself ready for my lastminute.com free holiday! Yes, you did read right, Free! Well, not exactly free; it’s a bit like, you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours. I wouldn’t normally bother with backs, but hey! So, this is how it works - I get to go on their website, lastminute.com that is, and choose any holiday in the world, regardless of the price. Yes, I can see you all thinking, St Lucia, Bahamas, Thailand, just Paradise! Well, in fact, for me it’s my worse nightmare. I’ll tell you why - I hate flying, but you’ve got to live your life, you’ve got to get through your fears. And I did mention it was free, didn’t I?

So, this is how I dealt with it. I needed to go to the closest place that was going to be hot - it was one of the Canaries. Now, my first choice was going to be Gran Canaria, because it’s very gay-friendly. I’ve never been, but apparently it is.

Unfortunately, they weren’t flying on the days I needed to fly, which was Sunday to Sunday, because I had to be back – this is where the scratching comes in – to do a viral commercial for lastminute.com, for the free holiday.

So it ended up being Tenerife. I picked the most expensive hotel I could find, which was the Gran Hotel Bahia del Duque; I just called it Hotel Ducky! After palpitating during the whole flight, yes, 4 hours of palpitations, God knows I needed that holiday, if nothing, just to get over the palpitations. But, I must say, it was totally worth it.

The hotel was beautiful, we had a lovely sea view room (we being me and my husband), champagne, and strawberries that had been dipped in chocolate on arrival, drapes over the bed, and a bath deep enough to drown in.

Although I wasn’t keen on the disability bar on the wall, I would have made it more of a design feature, rather than your classic bar-on-wall. It could have doubled up as a soap dish. No, I suppose that would be a bit dangerous, wouldn’t it? Imagine that, grabbing for your disability bar, slipping on the soap, knocking yourself out and drowning. That wouldn’t be much of a holiday, would it?

So, everything was perfect, the food was wonderful, beautiful beach, gradually getting myself a lovely tan, starting with my high factors – 20 on Sunday, 20 on Monday, 20 on Tuesday, 20 on Wednesday. Thursday is the day I go down to 15. I didn’t get to 15! It couldn’t have been worse. What couldn’t be worse, I hear you asking? This catastrophic disaster that happened! Yes, the erupting volcano in Iceland. I know their economy is shit, but they don’t have to bring the rest of the world down with them.

Well, to tell you the truth, the last thing on my mind was the economy. It was F***K! How am I going to get home? My flight was on Sunday, and already they were saying that flights could be cancelled for the next week. By hook or by crook, I had to be back in England. I was booked to be on Jonathan Ross with Gwyneth Paltrow, Demi Moore and Robert Downey Jr. And me! Yes, me! You can’t believe it? Honestly, when my agent told me, I almost prolapsed, I was that excited.

I was straight on the phone to the airline – well, I say straight on the phone – it took me all day. They assured me that it would all blow over and I would be on my flight on Sunday. Great! Friday morning, not wasting another moment, I got sprayed from top to bottom, not missing a nook or a cranny, with my Factor 15, and straight on the beach. I had already missed a day. This was my last day of being truly relaxed, because Saturday would be the day I start to panic about getting on the flight back. So, it would be guaranteed that I would have a disagreement with my husband, taking all my fear and anxiety out on him. Thank God he’s an angel sent from heaven. I definitely would have slapped me, or divorced me, or something. Honestly, I can be an absolute nightmare when it comes to flying.

But you know what? I found something out about myself. I was much more of a nightmare, I became a night terror, when I found out I wouldn’t be flying. Oh shit, there were no flights! I took the airline’s word that I would be fine by Sunday, I kept checking the internet, and yes, I could see no-one was flying out, but I wanted to believe her, I needed to believe her, that I would be flying out. I was supposed to be on Jonathan Ross for God’s sake!

But then I realized, I was either going to have to swim the Atlantic – well, I wouldn’t swim it, I would have been on my husband’s back, he’s a much stronger swimmer, I do the dancing - or not fulfill this amazing opportunity that arose, like a giant – sorry I’m going off again, this opportunity to be on the most prestigious chat show on British TV.

Well, for those of you who watched on Friday night, as you could see, I made it back, unlike those Hollywood A-listers, who between them I’m sure could afford to hire a private jet and get around that volcanic dust cloud, and then get a boat. I’m sure it would have been a yacht, or a luxurious speed boat, or something. But anyway, they didn’t - their loss, but my gain. Being the only original cast member on the show, I think that allows me to say that my supporting cast on the night ended up being less glamorous (as I think they would agree) than Gwyneth and Demi. Well, actually no, I’m lying there. Paul Weller looked immaculate and didn’t have a hair out of place; but as Jeremy Clarkson commented on himself, he did look as if he had just come from a day at the bank. And I have to agree with him, he did. But at least he invited me on Top Gear; I told him I want to race around that track. I mean, Simon Cowell came second, didn’t he? I’m sure I could bang him up the rear and knock him out of the way for first place. Well, I’d give it a bloody good try.

Oh, don’t let me forget, I think it goes without saying, doesn’t it, that the most important person on the show is always on the Poofs’ tee shirts, and yes, it was me, hehe. And, if that’s not the case, just let me go with it!

Before I continue about my evening with Johnny, let me just tell you how I managed to get there. Take a deep breath, and live this with me, if you dare. So, what’s going to be the quickest route home?

There were flights from Tenerife to the mainland, to Madrid, on Monday, so I’m already a day out. I’m meant to be back on Sunday. This only gets me to Madrid. Tickets bought, next step, train from Madrid to Paris, overnight sleeper. Seven hours later, still no train. The phones are down, internet site is down, I’m going to be stuck in Madrid. Fortunately, this angel of mine, yes, my husband, who at this point is either going to throw me from the sixth floor or get me from Madrid to Paris, finally gets through, not to the train company but a bus company. Yes, a bus! This won’t take 13 hours on an overnight sleeper in your own compartment. It’s going to take 20 hours. Great! I’ve never been so happy at the thought of 20 hours on a bus.

So, Monday we get a plane from Tenerife to Madrid. When we get there we’ve got a bus from Madrid to Paris, almost there, just have to get from Paris to London. 14 hours later and someone answers at Eurostar. I can only say thank God for Skype, otherwise my mobile bill would have been a small mortgage. We’d like two tickets please for Tuesday, any time from 3pm onwards. I’m sorry sir; unfortunately we have no availability until Wednesday night at 7.30pm, going from Euro Disney. That’s fine, fine, fine, fine! Book ‘em! Tickets booked, I’m going to make it! I’m going to be on Jonathan Ross!

Monday morning, taxi booked for 8am from hotel to airport, arrive at airport at 9am. Yes, I know the flight is at 11.30am and it’s an internal flight, but I didn’t want to take any chances. And thank the Lord above, if He’s there, that we did. When we went to check in, the very nice Spanish gentleman informed us that our tickets were for the next Monday. At this point I think I would have truly shit my pants if I’d eaten any solids or anything the previous day. But, as you all know, there wasn’t time for food because we spent the whole day trying to get tickets to get home.

He also informed us that the flight was full. At this point I felt a huge wave of emotion and I saw Jonathan Ross slipping away. I minced as fast as I could over to the Iberia counter and told my husband to get me on this flight, which he did, at extra cost, of course. So, everything in place, we get on flight to Madrid, get off flight in Madrid, get on tube, get to bus station, get in very long queue to collect bus tickets. In the queue, three from the front, reference number in hand, all the shutters come down! Well, as you can imagine, I break out in a cold sweat, I start palpitating, hyperventilating, and scream at my husband, what’s going on? Apparently all systems were down. I’d like you all to take note that this is 7.25pm and our bus is going at 7.45pm

For a whole five minutes, which you can imagine felt like a lifetime, nothing. Then, all of a sudden, like a scene from a West End musical, 5, 6, 7, 8, window 1, window, 2, window, 3, down to window 12, blind, blind, blind, up, up, up! We’re in business! Reference number given, tickets received, we make our way downstairs to the coaches; it’s like mass evacuation, herds of people pushing and shoving, throwing themselves on buses. Although tickets had coach numbers and seat numbers, this didn’t matter, this was war. So, without blinking an eye, believe me when I say I went high kicking and back flipping into that crowd; it was the performance of my life. I know it’s women and children first, but you know what, they weren’t on Jonathon Ross! I may have taken a few children out with a ronde de jambe kick and landed on some poor pensioner coming out of an open layout somersault, but it worked. We were on the bus, bags and all!

But, as we all know, nothing is for free; it was karma coming back around like a boomerang. There couldn’t have been a smellier couple sitting in front of us. And what with the air conditition being stuck and blowing back our way, there was no getting away from this for 20 hours. My angel of a husband tried to find some good in this, telling me they may have been traveling for days, that’s why they were unkempt and stank; but I’m sorry, their fingernails were filthy, that was ground in. That wasn’t a couple of days of traveling, that was a lifetime of dirt. Anyway, we’re on the bus, I’m en route, we’re getting closer, I will take my karma along with the air conditioning system that seems to be dripping, in fact, pouring down on me. But, you know what? We got through it.

Hurrah! Paris! A wonderful night in Paris, spent in a beautiful boutique hotel all decked out by Lacroix.

This is Tuesday night, by the way; Wednesday, we make our way to Euro Disney, spend the day there then, yes, oh, what relief, we get on the train and arrive back at London’s beautiful King’s Cross St Pancras. It never looked so good.

Thursday morning - gym, get outfit ready for Jonathan Ross! And what a night! I had so much fun; it was surreal being on that black leather sofa. Well, I don’t think it’s leather actually, I had a little sniff, I think it’s pleather! I ended up high-kicking; no back-flipping, but I did end up crawling over the set being a pussy and spraying my territory, but it was worth it. I had a ball!

I just want to say Thank You to Grazia! I really loved my ‘Style Hunt’ – I thought it looked great. And I loved the Attitude article as well, cheers guys, or gays!

Anyway, I think I’m up to date now, and things should be back to normal - we should be running more regularly. Just how I like it.

xxx

Forty One and Fabulous!

2010-04-06T10:25:00.005+01:00

And why wouldn't it be? The sun is out, the daffodils are blooming, and I feel more radiant than ever! And why? Because I'm worth it! Move over Cheryl - if L'Oréal can have a Geordie, babe, they can have a poof with a lisp! If anyone from L'Oréal is reading, feel free to get in touch, I look great with a weave too!

No, but really, what a glorious day I have woken up to! My life is already perfect, as I tweeted last night - what more do you want? Health, happiness, and someone who loves you - I've got it all. But I suppose there's always more, isn't there? There's Kylie and her retweets to me, "Plus high kicks to die for!! hahaaa!!" Sorry, did I mention Kylie again? I must not stop doing that!

So, what am I doing on my special day, I hear you all asking? Well, it's work, work, work! I'm here at the studios 'til 12, then off to Grazia magazine to go through a few bits that we're doing together - I'll let you know when it's out. It's bound to be fabulous, isn't it? I mean, really! Then off to lunch at The Ivy with Debbie Moore, OBE - it's going to be burger and chips for me all the way. After, a bit of shopping, then deciding where I'm going on holiday - it's going to be lastminute.com for me, they always seem to have something great on offer.

I'm loving you and leaving you - I know this is a short blog, but Interflora have never had such a busy day! I must go and receive my boxes and bouquets, and honestly some things are turning up that, well... I thought it was a totem pole! I'll leave you to work that one out, but I don't think it's something you'd be dancing around. All I've got to say is it would take your breath away!

Oh, and also, how could I forget? You all know I'm big in the Sun, don't you, the people's paper, as I mentioned in one of my previous blogs? And I did say how difficult it was to read those big papers, you know the ones I mean, like the Observer and The Guardian? Like I said, they do take up a whole carriage on the train. Well, I'm sorry, I'm backtracking and rewinding on that one. It's amazing how comfortable those big papers can get when you're in them - The Observer magazine on Sunday, and The Guardian on Monday! It really does seem that I'm reaching out to the whole nation, doesn't it?

And what is my message? Live life to the full! Love yourself, and love those who love you. And I love you all.

Happy Birthday to me!

Love Louie xxx

Blowing My Own Horn

2010-03-30T11:31:00.009+01:00

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!

2010-03-25T11:48:00.011Z

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?

2010-03-24T11:43:00.007Z

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

CLBR*TY

2010-03-19T10:54:00.003Z

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!

2010-03-18T12:42:00.006Z

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!

2010-03-15T10:07:00.013Z

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

2010-03-11T15:30:00.005Z

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

2010-03-09T10:51:00.000Z

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'

2010-03-08T10:49:00.000Z

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!

2010-03-05T09:42:00.000Z

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!

2010-03-02T15:46:00.000Z

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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