Celebrity Sex Camp - Part One!
2006-02-12, 8:34 p.m.
Well, here goes then!I�d like to stress that this has been an extremely difficult task for me. Firstly, my knowledge of popular culture is minimal so I don�t know who�s currently hot and who�s currently not. Secondly, in order to make it worthwhile doing this at all, It had to have a shred of credibility to it � that counts out any man under thirty-ish or ridiculously good looking as I couldn�t bear the thought of them going home in a taxi afterwards feeling all icky and shuddering at the hideous things they�ve just done. (Aww, get OFF. We�ve all done it � woken up with a "stumper", that is � where you wake up with your arm under the neck of some sleeping monstrosity and you cant help thinking you�d rather gnaw your own arm off at the elbow (�stump�), than wake them up whilst making your escape).
Thirdly, even tho I know its all fantasy and not real and all that, it does still seem a bit�umm�disloyal to my dear BF who, despite being a right royal pain in the arse quite a lot of the time, is the man that I love and on whom I would never ever cheat. In the spirit of monogamy, Ive worked out that I could only do this if BF was "in on it" in some way � like if there was a HUGE cash prize at the end of it which would clear our debt and leave us enough for a weekend in Bridlington or something.
Oh, and while we�re on the subject, I don�t think I�ll be able to get this all done in one day. With it being Valentines Day next week, its ever so slightly chaotic at work at the moment and everyone�s a wee bit over-stretched and grumpy. I might have to break the week up a bit but I promise I�ll do my best (also its not so boring for you lot to have to plough through it all at once!)
So. Monday then.
Bearing in mind the onerous tasks ahead of me I think a little preparation might be in order so I choose to spend Monday with �..
The lovely Rupert Everett. Yup. The first one�s a gay one. Bearing in mind all my girlfriends that Ive told about this meme have all gone "Eeeeuuuw" about at least one of my choices, I choose gorgeous gay Rupert to be my sounding board. In my experience, one can always get an honest opinion from a gay man, especially in matters of shopping � so its off to H@rrods with my (pre-divorce) account card for a spot of retailing. Of course I would tell Rupert EVERYTHING I was planning to do over the course of the week and he would advise on the correct clothing � including telling me in a bitchy way whilst languidly smoking a ciggie outside the changing room that my "arse looks like two badly parked Volkswagens in that, darling!" and making me snigger and hit him with something (a Judith Leiber handbag, probably).
Back home to the Palace of Many Sins where dear Rupert can recline on my bed ("Ach! A water bed! You are Soooooo tacky, Stepfie!") while I try on all my new purchases and mix and match with stuff from the wardrobe and the dressing up box until I have all my outfits for the week all sorted. Naturally we would be sipping Cristal and noshing violet and rose creams all the while and he would concur that it will be perfectly in order for me to quote Nancy Mitford and pass her stuff off as my own "since none of the troglodytes you�ve picked would know the difference between Nancy Mitford and Nancy Drew, sweetie". A little light supper (I fancy sushi � Rupert can pick at it in a dismissive way) then he can give his opinion on the sexual activities planned for the week. As he wont be in the slightest bit interested in me THAT WAY, he can give a true verdict on whether or not I look foul if I bend over *like this*, or if my boobs go a funny shape if I *do this* - thus avoiding potential scary moments later on in the week. Once Im totally comfortable about what Im going to do and with whom Im sure I will feel confident enough to let him go home and we can both go to bed and dream of my lovely list of future conquests. I assume it counts as having sex if we�re both having it � even if we�re not actually in the same bed, in the same house, in the same town? Hell, we�ll both be having sex � I�ll phone him afterwards and have a giggly breathless conversation about who we were thinking of at the climactic moment ("Rupert, you swine! You said he was FOUL! How dare you spank your horrid little gay monkey over him after what you said�..Well! When I see him Im Sooooo telling!�..What? Oh, yes actually, me too!��No I did not! You said my face goes all blotchy when I do that so Im practicing not doing it��.Oh, you are a pig!�..Yes, nightie night my sweet�.Bye")
Monday�s Super-Sub? John Galliano please.
Pretty much as above but if I cant find ANYthing to wear in Horrids he can have a rummage in my "making things" box and rustle me up something fabulous from some old garden netting and a bit of velvet that was left over from when I re-upholstered that chair in the spare room.
Tuesday then. Still a bit creeped out by the sheer volume of different men Id have to have sex with this week � Yes, Yes, I know Im from Chav Ville but I havent been a student in a VERY long time. Ive lost count of how many years its been since someone sidled up to my brother (now a middle aged balding paunchy accountant) and said "Hey, Stepfordbro, we�re havin a party Saturday night. Wanna come? Oh, and *leering and waggling eyebrows* bring your sister, yeh?!" Amazing how popular one can be when its ON A FUCKING PLATE FOR ALL TO SEE!
I think a little light Phys Ed is in order, just to get me in trim for the rest of the week when I roll in the big guns (EEEK!), so I choose
Les Ferdinand. Ive always had a bit of a soft spot for Les. Don�t ask me who he plays for now, but he certainly was in the England footie squad at some point in the last 300 years. Back in the days when all I did in the evenings was watch Shagnasty watching TV, I used to love offering my own commentary on the games he was glued to. I�d be going "Oooh, he�s had his hair cut" or "I saw his wife on the news yesterday, she�s a real dog" or "aww, look, its raining, they�re going to get SOAKED". He could usually last til half-time before yelling at me to shut up.
So its off to the park then to watch Les�s thighs flexing. Its been a while since I played any competitive sport of any sort but Im still quite useful on the footie field and would enjoy a bit of a kick around and a game of headers and volleys with the lovely Les. I don�t pretend that Im a world-class player or anything but as I would be wearing teeny weeny white shorts and proper football boots whilst he�d be sliding all over the grass in his plimmies, I would, naturally be winning every ball and making him look a bit of a doofus, especially as he was never particularly good, even when he was playing for England. At half time we�d do the standard footie half-time restorative of a cup of hot steamy Bovril and a meat pie (I use the term "meat" in its loosest possible sense, but I don�t think it sounds nearly so pleasant to say "Grey bits of something in gelatinous gravy at the temperature of lava").
Once he�s been roundly thrashed by my astonishing dribbling skills and felled once or twice by the still impressive Stepfie-shoulder-barge, it would be back to the changing room for one of those enormous communal baths that footballers used to have in the 70�s. Im sure they don�t have them now, its probably all individual steam showers and personal physio to rub away the stresses of the match but, back in the 70s it was a giant-sized square swimming pool of a tub and all in together boys � with George Best smoking a fag over the side so as to not get it wet. I could definitely let Les see me naked as he�s kind of my age and must surely be used to birds who are a bit past their prime coming on to him, seeing as he�s no David Beckham and all. I suggest some serious overuse of the bubbly bath and twin loofah abuse. I wonder if he�d let me wash his hair as, many years ago when I had a West Indian boyfriend, I used to love the feel of his hair when I washed it. It was all scrumbly.
I think Les would appreciate some Italian food (nothing too fancy) and then back to his place where I show him a new trick with Ralgex (a tiny bit on your finger tip and blow gently) while I practice my ball control. If he could still bang one in from the half way line after that then he�s a better man than I thought.
And on the subs bench for Tuesday�.I give you (or rather, I take me!) the ever scrummy
Mr Will Smith. I somehow doubt his prowess on the football field but he does still have the necessary yummy pecs, impressively biteable thighs and, lets face it girls, them ears was meant for holdin�. Oh yes. I could get jiggy widit. (and I go a bit wobbly when he says "Giiirl" in that slightly indignant way).
Right. Im knackered now and its not even halfway through the week. One more "gently does it" then Im IN THERE.
Wednesday is a virtual night in at the Palace then THE WEEKEND STARTS. Wish me luck (and I�ll post the rest tomorrow.).