epsiode 27

The day I nearly met Dec (Donnelly)

My friend and I were chatting about how neither of us were doing very well with men, (huge understatement), and how we couldn't fathom them out, although we kind of could because the men we met were unfathomable.
'I know,' she said, 'in order to cheer us up let's make a list of our dream dates.' We both had George Clooney at the top, (we fought over him a bit, before conceding reluctantly that we could both have him). The rest of my list included Owen Wilson, Rob Lowe, The Red Hot Chili Peppers (all of them), Heath Ledger, Declan Donnelly and James Martin. My friend's list included Matthew McCarthy, Rob Lowe, Oliver Reed (pre death) and a footballer called Maldini.
Anyway, we then got a bit carried away talking about where they would take us on a date, (for dinner in Italy on a private jet in the case of George). It entertained us for far too long.

The following week, I was sitting at home, minding my own business when my mobile rang.
'Hi, I'm calling from Saturday Night Takeaway,' a voice said. I was ever so slightly taken aback. It transpired that I had applied for tickets to go on the show. In my stunned state I had to answer a few questions, which I duly did. I was then told that if I had been short-listed I would be called back. I hung up, and immediately called my friend.
'I just got called from Ant and Dec's show.'
'Oh great, are we in?'
'I don't know they said if I was they'd call back and I might have to win the ads.'
'Great, I could do with a holiday. And a new car.'
'So, you did this?'
'Guilty. What are you going to wear?'
'Why on earth?'
'Well I was surfing the net and it just came to me. And it's easier than meeting George Clooney.'

I have to confess that I had seen the show a couple of times, after all you don't have a crush on Dec and not follow his career closely, although I didn't watch their film about aliens because I don't like them, although I quite liked ET. Anyway I forgot about it, there was no way they'd call me back.
I got a call the following day from a lovely young man from the show. He asked me more questions. I told him I was a writer, my hobbies were cocktails and poker (I was put on the spot), and that my aim in life was World domination. And I wasn't even drunk. So, he said that I was successful and would be on the short list to be selected to play the ads game.
'What are the questions like?' I asked not being able to remember. He said they were topical.
'So I should read the tabloids and Heat magazine?' I asked. He said that would be a good idea.
So, I did exactly that and on the advice of friends I even read the sports pages, (apart from cricket, I tried but it was like a foreign language), and people sent me texts asking me questions all week and I was prepared. I even knew the rugby results.
I have to admit that at this point I got a bit carried away. I was terrified about actually making a fool of myself on live TV, but then I could win all those lovely prizes and perhaps the biggest prize of all, Declan's heart (I was drunk now). I could imagine it. I would be called to win the ads. I would elegantly make my way down to the stage, where I would be charming and witty and our eyes would lock over a years' supply of dishwasher liquid and we'd live happily ever after…

The night arrived. After taking the advice they sent us about what to wear I put on a red dress (black makes you look washed out on TV apparently, although Davina McCall obviously hadn't been told that, white isn't good, neither are patterns), red lipstick, and heels that were high but not too high that I might fall down when running to the stage. As we joined the queue to get in, I started to feel nervous. What if despite all my hard work I didn't get any questions right? We were being stared at quite a lot but that probably was something to do with us looking like we had taken a wrong turning going for cocktails at Claridges and everyone else seemed to look normal. Well, it did say on the letter that we should look our best.
We were searched and then we went in. There was a bar, (thank goodness), and after we signed in, we were given forms to fill out to decide who would win 'beat the boys.' It was Ant and Dec vs Max Beasley and Jonathan Wilkes. The woman explained what we needed to do.
'Do you understand?' she asked.
'Sorry I wasn't listening,' my friend replied. She looked at me; I shook my head apologetically and she started again.
Then I had to go and have my photo taken. My friend was dispatched to the bar while I sat down and was told to pull a funny face. It was really hard, but as you can see I managed it. After that we had wine and chips. The food served at the bar was a bit confounding. Scampi, burger, chips and donuts. We looked around; everyone was friendly and smiling, happy to be there. I was slightly puzzled by one man who had bought his groceries with him; a Morrison's' bag with tangerines and a whole melon in it.
Once we'd eaten and had a couple of drinks we decided to go and talk to the women who helped with the 'Beat the boys' task. One team was driving an ambulance and the other a safari car.
'What size are the engines?' my friend asked. The girl didn't know.
'Has Max Beasley been on Top Gear?' I asked. She didn't know.
'What were the weather conditions?' My friend asked. She shook her head and looked a bit scared.
'Who do you think will win?' I asked. The woman was glad to see the back of us when finally we left, arguing about engine sizes naturally.
After what seemed like years (but was only a couple of hours) it was time to go into the studio. As we went in we had to collect our cards with the photos of the teams on 'beat the boys.' I had gone for Max and Johnny; my friend Ant and Dec. Then as we sat down she reminded me that Max Beasley had been on her list of dream dates and took the card from me.
We took our seats, and then the compare came on. We were told to clap, laugh, dance and say something like 'get jiggy with the piggy.' Again, it was hard to concentrate, and we seemed to be about five seconds behind everyone else. The audience was very excited. People turned to talk to us and there was a friendly, warm atmosphere. My friend asked me more last minute questions and we were ready to go, as she took her shoes off and tried to make herself comfortable.
The show itself went quite quickly. When they announced that coming up would be 'Win the ads' my friend started channeling. And then suddenly, in a blink there was my photo on the screen. And then it passed and stopped on someone else.
I was utterly disappointed, although at the same time a little relieved. But then when the game started I got every single question right, and would have won cars, and holidays and all sorts.
After the show we filed out. I tried to be brave. After all, perhaps trying to get on a TV game show was an extreme way of trying to meet my crush, (although it was my friend's fault). We made our way to a bar to have a nice consolation drink and on the way my friend made me stop so she could take my photo with Ant and Dec (the cardboard version). As she did so, a drunk came up to me and put his arm around me. I squirmed away.
'I'll have my photo taken with you,' he slurred. I shook my head. After finally getting him to leave me alone he turned round.
'I fancy her.' He slurred.
'As least you pulled someone,' my friend pointed out.

Over a glass of Champagne we giggled about the evening. And I didn't come away empty handed. I had a cardboard picture of Ant and Dec, I won the beat the boys prize which meant I would be getting a digital camera, but on the downside we had hand injuries from clapping so much and going to the show had done nothing to diminish my crush; Dec is super, super cute.
'Perhaps you can go on I'm a Celebrity next,' my friend suggested.
'Apart from the fact I'm not a celeb, there's no way I would ever go on that.'
'Not even for Dec?'
'Not even for George Clooney.'

To see the photos go to www.myspace.com/faithbleasdale