You
may have read yesterday's post
about a swimwear competition attended by a bevvy of reality TV stars,
and my attempts to get pictures with as many of them as possible.
This post was, in all honesty, quite heavily sanitised. There's a lot
that I missed out in order to keep it positive, so that the people
involved would retweet it and I'd get the hits on my blog. I missed
out some rather bizarre incidents from the night.
First
off, let's look at the meetup that I uploaded to Manchester Cool Bars.
It shows that no-one went to this. Not entirely accurate. I
originally had 2 RSVPs joining me, but one of them backed out at the
last minute. The other came late, couldn't find Dog Bowl without explicit guidance and
turned up in trainers. The guy looked about thirty. I learned when I
was seventeen- DON'T WEAR TRAINERS IN MANCHESTER. You won't get in
anywhere other than Fifth Ave in trainers, and I'd rather go
free-diving in Michael Barrymore's pool
than go there. Weirdly, the rest of his outfit as very trendy- good
jeans and plain t-shirt, a long open cardigan and well-styled hair.
So
he went home to get shoes... and never came back. Meanwhile, I rolled
into the club and started talking to people- whoever I could. Most
people were well-natured and cool, like you'd expect- or at least
hope- people to be.
I
got chatting to Jsky from First Dates.
He remembered meeting me at the last Manchester heat
in September last year. I got a picture with him again, with him
dressed not dissimilar to Ace Ventura when he visits that mental hospital
in the first film.
He
told me I was gorgeous, then tried- successfully on his part- to kiss
me. I coughed him off and wandered away, violated. He then spent the
rest of the evening leering at me.
Imagine
if I'd done that to a woman, though. Jesus Christ. The doormen would
have beaten the shit out of me, I'd probably have been arrested and
put on the sex offenders register and my name would be shit in the
Miss Swimsuit community.
I
thought, fuck it, it's time to balance the situation out somewhat,
and hence somehow ended up kissing a (thankfully female) model, who
it seemed was married. Well, I didn't make her kiss me. Nor get married.
But
anyway, I wasn't there to scupper other people's relationships- I was
there for a party, and to hound celebrities looking for gossip. It
was my intention to ask people for info that they hadn't told the
media already- something I could use to get the edge over the press.
I'm still not as confident as I want to be and I didn't ask those
questions, and hence ended up with only a shitload of celebrity
photos. But I still figured I'd try my luck with Manchester's Scott Thomas from Love Island, who was in the throes of some
quite dodgy Denzel-Washington-in-Training-Day impressions.
I
walked over and told him I used to go to his Thursday nights at The Milton Club.
Immediately, his eyes widened, his hands came up and he backed
awkwardly away.
What's
the need? I thought. I analysed my own behaviour thinking, what was
the problem with what I did?
The
conclusion I came to: Nothing. I did nothing wrong. I approached
loads of people that night and he was the only person who didn't want
to speak to me. But fuck it, if you go to a nightclub and talk to
twenty-or-so people and only one of them is difficult with you,
that's a good night.
A
few minutes later Mr. Thomas started to stress out over something- he
was searching his pockets frantically and looking at the floor. I
guessed it was his phone and thought, fuck it, I might as well help
him out. Maybe someone's half-inched it, or maybe he's just dropped
it. Someone stole my phone back in 2011 and it totally fucked up my
life, so I can't help be sympathetic. If I find it he might see I'm
not quite the arsehole he for some reason takes me for, not that I should be at all bothered. I saw
something on the floor that, in the dim light, looked rectangular. I
nudged him and pointed at it, but he brushed me off again, visibly
annoyed. I walked over to the object myself... and realised it was a
discarded drinks straw.
Well.
That could have been worse. Not long after this the club started to
empty out, so I made a move myself.
The
Swimwear events are really good fun, on the whole, and are worth
booking off a Friday for. Get involved with the Meetup group to see
when the next local heat is.
