Hot Stuff – My Ass!

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!

xx

What a Wonderful World!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xxx

Sunny Monday morn'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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