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

Front To Back, Back To Front - How Bizarre

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!

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

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!

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!

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