DAME HILDA
Dame Hilda’s Stalking report and show write-up
Well actually – I wished I was the one, but as the story goes, with stunning good fortune and very kind friends myself, dame Hilda and Bex, our site reporter found ourselves with a ‘golden ticket’ apiece, so with 3 days notice and a very swift organise here at home, I’d popped the kids in care (joke) and booked some god awful – but cheap train tickets to the big smoke – that’s London ‘BABY’
Saturday finds me held up in traffic watching the big hand tick, so belts through Liverpool train station like greased butter ( ok hauls carcass into station hauling case and arse behind me ) to find the fast track ticket booth….well I’m a bit gauche about something’s so – 10 minutes later, train held whilst nice kind man does it for me *cough* gets tickets that is – I flings self on rear of train in blind panic – it whooshes from station with every passenger giving me the evils for delay.
Many texts and calls later, and 5 hours later, when I realise why train is so cheap, I’ll be in the carriage with broken heating and faulty door, can I just say that I was a bag of nerves to hear porter explain that ‘trains are so old, we don’t have spare parts – that’s why door keeps flying open – and we only haul these old things out for weekend trips till they can’t pass the safety check – good old Virgin trains – as Graham Norton would say – Its’ all so British!………Lovely, great , smashing. All this is duly reported to Bex who is winging self London way in comfort (she’s a classy bitch who pays for comfort) Anyways, we gets to Euston, surgically attached to phones chatting till the daft bint bear hugs me from behind! There’s me – thinking – capital city / wall to wall muggers / rapists/ white slave traders/ and gives her a demon karate chop to the solar plexus in blind panic!! When she picks her lungs and holdall off floor we attempt a navigation of the underground tube. Meanwhile, both of us presume the other has the address of where we think we are booking in…….
Did I mention that, yes we has show tickets, and train tickets, yes we had the glam outfits but no we didn’t have hotel….Guess where was fully booked?! Uhu, so half hour later after some swift scouse bargaining, and a refusal to pay some obscene knockdown price on plush 5 star hotel around corner – we books Holiday Inn! Don’t laugh now, believe it or not it was an excellent place, fair price and all creature comforts besides a mini bar – but you know us dames well – we bought our own ‘dame bar’ with us – 1 litre of best Smirnoff vodka and a holdall full of diet coke!
After plans of a meet up with friends at a certain salubrious 5 star hotel, we nip next door for supper ( that’s McDonalds to you) A dame has to make a cost cutting exercise when every London cabbie is up for screwing every spare penny out of you . We thankfully found a rugby team on a night out – and borrowed their limo ( thank you to Peter – and the free beers went down well on top of a hefty line of dame vodkas and a big Mac – I’m referring to the food – not some random passing Scotsman……..)
<...Randomer!
Falls in posh hotel an hour earlier than friends to get comfy…ok – to get mingling *wink* A great time by all, till Bex phone goes – its her mother….don’t suppose I happened to mention that
1) Yes we do both still have living parents and
2) Both set of folks think their only daughters are serial stalkers and up for counselling due to fixation and
3) Bex has blagged she on some rambling weekend with a bunch of ancient twitchers…..
Well Bex shoots outa foyer to perch in road blagging elderly mother….when Lo and behold ‘big bad Dave slopes out of a passing car. Deadpan Bex nods casually over – then grips Filan in the rear (I meant Shane was following behind Dave – NOT – she grabbed his arse!) It was a chilly night and our reporter Bex doesn’t have much meat on her skinny bones! A few moments later she’s nicely warmed up and belts back in bar to persuade this old dame to part ways with her double vodka I’d just paid a small mortgage for, I was reticent to say the least – I’m always happy at the bar... Well she points young master Filan out and I downed in one (drink that is) Belts over with serious keenness to salivate from behind a sturdy pillar (well I’m shy?!)
Gets a bit of a nod from the man himself whilst he’s booking in. At this point I’m more than surprised at the lack of stalkers about. Shucks, appears we were the only ones. Bex, never shy – nips over to greet an old friend (that’s any of the lads to her!) I’m still wandering agog as normal, either that or the drinks had gone to my head as normal, when Bex pipes up – photo with my mate? And points right at me. Floor / open and die/ methinks and backs away sheepish. He carries on beckoning, all friendly like, but I’m still slithering backwards to the comfort of the bar. Then to finish me off Bex pipes up with
‘She doesn’t wasn’t that fake fan face’
‘Whaaaaaaa?’Goes Shane (bright boy) then he twigs after Bex does a pure class rip off of the ‘squirrel nuts face’ Suffice to say, I got a nice picture in the end * blush* of him…I’m laughing so hard I look like a hamster!!
The next dodgy job was how to get site screen caps signed, one for us and one for Bea at Shaneadelic. Deciding that Bea’s looks more harmless at first glance as it features the man himself and lovely wife – shoves that casually under his nose. Being a nice well raised boy he stops to strain myopic eyes to read small print. Plan 2 into action – due to both sites more ‘adult content’ Bex lunges in on distraction mode. Shane duly signs, and then keeps looking down to read. I’m sorry to say, at this point my manners left me and in blind panic I rips card out of his grasp before he gets the general gist. Leaves Bex to deal with own site card and distraction, as she’s a skilled blagger!
I’m now content at undercover dame operation and wants out of there before the masses arrive. Too busy ogling camera photo so mutters a mumbled ‘thanks Shane’ leaving the lad standing aimlessly in foyer on own. Runs for bar with more energy than a springtime lamb – well there’s vodka at the bar!! And tomorrows another (stalking) day.
After a bit of a Westlife crave, our friends trot to bar, alas – alls calm on the western front. Discovering to our horror that the bar closes to non residents at 11pm we hatch a dastardly plan. Our pals retire for the evening – and to conserve energy, whilst Bex and I have a quick chat with barman. Officially we can’t order a drink after eleven, but a resident can buy us one.( cheesy grin) Finds ourselves a few nice residents and that’s the problem sorted. Happily cackle and lurch around bar talking to total randomers when the next ‘total randomer’ is Jake – tour manager extraordinaire and his friend. “hours later and we finally staggers out of hotel well oiled and well fuelled! Cant recall getting home – but looking at purse next day, either the taxi was grimly expensive or the drinks were
Day 2.
Up with the lark as normal, actually, the truth is I can’t bear to miss a breakfast ( its in on the price and needed something to soak alcohol up with). So bags packed and off to previous hotel that could only offer single night. But it’s 20 quid cheaper and round corner from favourite stalking place, with the added bonus that 50 cravens were descending ready for show. We bags a room 3 hours early, wearing ballgowns…..long complicated tale. Incase there was no room we had to get ready. Do remember – the ticket quoted ‘glamorous wear’ and us dames like to drag up!! Unfortunately, whilst shopping I gave sales assistant the best laugh shed had in ages, there’s a world of difference between ‘glamour wear’ and glamorous wear’ *blush
TBC