Did Manchester on Saturday

So Saturday morning, the little Glamour Puss and her fair, fair (well mixed raced,) ‘Handsome’ of ‘lover lover,’ venture off to Manchester, from their little town of Pontefract, to plunge themselves into a process where they will be judged, questioned and auditioned in order to attempt to win a role on a tv show, where they could win a big prize. (It’s a process, i’m used to. But a process that terrifies Pete.)

Anyway, i hadn’t seen him in two days, due to work schedules and tiredness. When we met, it once again was like *magic.* It’s like i got to fall in love with him over a agin. He was so deliciously handsome, with that cheeky smile on his face, that i can never reisit, even at the best of times. I am in LOVE with this fellow and he gently flirted and played, like childhood sweethearts, all a giggle and a wink, whilst we trained it from Fitzwillam to Leeds, in order to make our Manchester train. (I was in my boobied peach, ‘I’m a Goddess, now bow’ dress. He was in his ‘I could be a half ethnic Ken doll‘ fitted mens shirt. His body is to DIE for and his heart is one of the most tender cushions of love, any girl could ever wish for. We’re on a  journey of marvel. He teared up last night in the car, because he always has moments where he feels insecure, or like i’m going to leave him. I’m 100% in love. It fricking takes a whole lot and THEN some to get rid of this slanted eyed floozey. Well….unless i don’t fancy you, and you were merely a toy to fill a one night void of loneliness. However, that was my past. My future is beaming with this odd white blur of pureness.)

So we got on the train to Manchest, at around noon-ish. Pete had never been on a train journey with me before, so he was all excited..which bizarrely made me all excited to. I seem to be on a train ALL of the time. It’s sort of nice to look to your left and see a smiley face next to you, that you feel safe with. (That’s instead of one that’s just staring at you, and undressing you with their eyes!)

We ugraded ourselves to first class, simply ebcause we needed coffee for free. My card wasn’t working in their system on the train, yet Loverboy’s was. I used all my cash to upgrade us to a better train status. We loved it. Free coffee, free cake, and a quick lay down, with a lamp. I love travelling with others. It makes the my journey through life merrier. I’m a people person. I’ll throw you a party popper, a cocktail, a decent pair of shoes and beckon you MY WAY, with a *wiggle.* It looks dangerous. But it never is! It’s all just *good-clean* fun, which is just the way I like it Dolls!

We get to Manchester Piccadilly, it’s now sunny but the ground is all wet because it had just got done rraining heavily. We couldnt for the life of us find the Methodist centre (which is where the audition was being held, on Oldham street.) We strutted into a newsagents, in dying hope that he would offer us guidance. Instead he asked Pete (who is half black and half white, in skin tone and not attire) whether that was the place where all the ‘Black people go?’ He said it with such innocence that all you could do was piss yourself laughing. I started to *giggle,* which made Loverboy *giggle.* After moments of him trying to poorly aid us on our way to our audition. A less loving, however less racist guy tols us we had passed it on our walk. We had, without even knowing. We walked back, hand in hand, 20 steps. It ended with me shouting, mid-point…‘THIS IS IT HERE!!!’

Funny day. Filled with orange squash, Rich tea biscuits and vending machine coffee, whilst waiting nervously in rooms, in a Methodist centre that had been rented out by a production comapny to audition us all for Channel 4. I was really excited, and well Pete was getting more and more nervous as we went along. He was properly out of his darling *comfort zone.* But to be honest…so was I! Yet i flourish in those moments of *awkward.* It makes me all strong and sassy and i begin to think that i’m pretty much there now, so i might aswell give it my all..clumsy laughter, jazz hands and everything. 9ther ewe no jazz hands. But i was doing them in my head. I promise!)

Next to the room that we were waiting in, betweeninterviews, was a hall packed with people worshipping God, very loudly to music. There was a man on the stage, microphone screaming our ‘Hail Mary’s’ at the top of his ‘Halleujah!! GOD IS WITH YOU,‘ lungs, to the loudest of calypso music. It actually sounded like ‘Samba no.4‘ on your childhood keyboard, that you would play as a ‘demo,‘ yet pretend that you were actually producing those particular sounds yourself.

I shyly peeked through the door, whilst we were waiting to do our first interview, with a lovely ‘7 weeks to go’ pregnant young lady, who was to be our first heat in the ‘hoop jump’ for success. I saw, what looke dlike gorgeously buxom African ladies, wearing Virgin Mary outfits, with Baker’s (well Chef’s) hats upon their head, dancing in circles madly, in worship. It was actuaally amazing! Pete loved it, but unfortunately got a little bit too obsessed with it all. I thought he kept going to the toilet because he was nervous, when infact he kept going to the toilet because he wanted to LEARN the dance moves.

I’m not even joking. I found him and joined him, wanting to prep him on the next stage of our auditomn and ALL he couls do was literally SHOW me the actual dance steps of methosidt worship he had learnt, that went ‘back, back, forward, forward,’ with what looked like hoola girl arms.

One of the Methodist worshippers had a robe on, and had accessorized with a Louis Vuiton man satchel. i liked him. he was my favourite. I smiled at his Vuitton,a she merrily sauntered in to the elevator. Unfortunately he thought I was staring at him and begining inappropriately *winking* at me, when Pete’s back was turned and doing faces that suggested he wanted to know me in the biblical sense. 🙂

The elevator doors closed. Pete got more coffee, whilst dancing to the, NOW DRIVING ME INSAne,  music of worship. I mea there’s being enthusiaastic about God and then there’s taking it fucking too far. I just didn’t understand why they couldn’t do it quietly. I’m not a party pooper by any means. The first hour of the loudest bongos in the world, to a preacher and calypso sounds of GOD, were HILARIOUSLY GENIUS! I loved it. But three hours in, of VOLUME 10 worship…was beginning to do my head it. I think i said it out loud, as the music finally cut off by accident. I had a migrane, an empty stomach and alsorts. I needed the madness to calm the jeepers down!

The door eased open and Pete and I were called into our next round with the Senoir Producer. We actually did better than we thought we would do, on that day. We kept getting through the baby heats, by accident, by simply being ourselves. A couple of hours later, we were on our final round which was a filmed screen test. Pete excelled at it. I htought he’d be a great deal more nervous than he actually was! he aced it like a champion. I was dead proud. I mean he overcame a huge bundle of fears on that day. Loverboy, is a boy, who cares very much about what others think of him. He’s very shy. I had never seen him so confident. I smiled at him, like a proud veteran of jiggery pokery!

All in all, i think we did okay! I mean, it’s one of those things that you never know the outcome of really? So fingers crossed! Either way, we had the best time ever. Pete is was not as nervous as he made out he’d be. I noticed that he was mildy scared, but when in the room *championed* it. He was his ultimate REAL self..ann that is one of the hardest things for some ‘beings’ in this world to sometimes be.

 I was every proud. At about 4.30pm. We legged it back to machester Piccadilly, to catch the next train to Leeds. Luckily, we got there with two minutes to spare. We had to leave so fast because Petey had work in an hours time. We had neve rbeen so exhausted. Auditioning takes it out of you. The nerves tire you out. I wasn’t really nervous. I was excited. I mean, in reality, you can’t really get nervous about being yourself, can you? If they like you, they like you. If they don’t, they don’t. You can only be you and hope that they see the best in you. I love every moment of it.

We arrived in Leeds, all loved up and with noodles. He went one way i tiredly strutted the other. I shuffled my way to Platfrom 13A…to get on a  train back to Pontefract. I was pacing madly. I do this when i’m tired, or thinking, or just being mentally insane. I literally will stand on a platform and in a restless manner, pace agressively in circles, until you think i’m a complete and utter nutter. I couldn’t get through to my Mother who i had called almost 42 times. It sent me wacko. 🙂

I was exhausted and needed to put warmer clothes on. I just wanted to be home and comfy! I couldn’t WAIT for the train to hurry up and arrive. I stopped, I looked up at the *tells you what time it is* electronic train board.. only to hear someone shout ‘OMG!! THAT’S CHRISSIE OFF THE TELLY!!’

I looked to my left and who was it? Yep…what were the chances! It was Pontefracts answer to ‘Laurel and Hardy,’ yet not at all as funny….Drunk WAZZA & Drunk BONE, with beers, loud mouths and a *swagger* so lethal that you knew, there’d be some kind of circus behind them. 🙂 (When the words ‘rape- tackle’ are used, as a tender form of affection for ginger strippers…you know it’s gonna be a long train journey home.)

This will have to be continued….. (It’s kinda making my crotch itch.)

 ‘Bone & Wazza’


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