Sunday, 14 August 2011

A Benidorm Guide to a Happy Holiday - A Must Have!

It has long been recognised that one has some very special men in one’s life; none more so, than the exquisitely delicious and award-winning, comedy genius that is Derren Litten.

For many years, Derren has brought laughter into our lives, whether through his comedy acting or through his wonderful writing. His partnership with his school friend - the gorgeous Catherine Tate - brought us the sublimely gigglicious 'Catherine Tate Show' and without him, we would not have had the pleasure of the wonderful ‘Benidorm’ (The television series, not the town, dear. …He’s not a construction worker!).

The latter has introduced us to a plethora of characters that we have grown to know and love; the Garvey family with the sun-drenched, chain-smoking matriarch, Madge; the wonderfully sarcastic Gavin and Troy; the swinging shenanigans of Donald and Jacqueline and the saucy antics of the Solana’s very own Mateo (played by one’s treasured poppet, Jake Canuso).

Derren has proved that, not only can he write fabulous comedy lines but also bring us story lines filled with emotion and sentiment. In Series 4 of the show one had many a droplet force itself from one’s tear ducts at the story line he brought us, which paid perfect homage to the late, great Geoffrey Hutchings.

Anyhoo … one was in Litten’s this afternoon – the oak-panelled bar at Crusty Hall. Chu Me had just poured one a tumbler of gin but was having considerable problem trying to get some ice cubes from a clump in the ice bucket that had frostily welded themselves to one another. One was standing behind the bar and gazing upon the picture framed magnificence of one’s comedy poppet and wondering whether to re-apply a lipstick imprint of one’s kiss upon his cheek when, suddenly, one felt an intense and very pleasurable vibration round one’s downstairs area; it was one’s mobile device.

As Chu Me, gripped his weapon of choice and managed - with a quick bash and a degree of panting – to get his rocks off, one read the screen while he deposited a handful into one’s glass. One squealed loudly.

Apparently, not only had one’s dearest poppet, Derren,  been locked in a room, beavering away furiously on Benidorm Series 5 …but he had also been writing a book!!!! Good Lord, he never stops!!! Sufficed to say his work is complete and is available to pre-order from our wonderful Amazonians. One has already made one’s reservation and urge all of one’s poppets to do the same. It is guaranteed to exercise your chuckle-muscles and provide hints and tips from Madge on the art of tanning, from Donald and Jacqueline on getting into the 'swing' of things and advice from Mateo on holiday romances (oh yes, it's not all down to pert buttocks and gossamer thin budgie-smugglers, I can tell you!)

It will be the most delicious read and the sort of thing you can always give a quick fingering every now and then. You’ll also find it’s currently a hard one (and who can resist one of those), so reserve it now before it goes soft. Simply click on the image below to get your copy from Amazon!

Rained In With Jordan.

The weather outside was horrendous! Mother Nature certainly appeared to have a lot of angst that she wished to rid herself of. The heavy, swollen liquidity of her tears plummeted from the heavens and exploded violently upon the grounds here at Crusty Hall. One stood with a Baccarat tumbler of gin at the Study window watching this heavy curtain of water fall upon the day’s production and random droplets ricocheting from the lush green foliage of gardener’s borders.

From behind, one could hear the slapping sound given off by the flip-flops of one’s faithful houseboy, Chu Me. As he came up one’s rear, one sighed and said, “One fears today is not a day to venture outside, dear.”

One had no appetite to go into the Library; by the time one had searched through the immense catalogue of books on the shelves, it would be quite possible that the day would be over. What could one do with the day? One placed the glistening crystal tumbler on the corner of one’s desk.

“Chu Me, dear, ask one of the household staff to come in, would you?”

Within a few minutes a small, slender girl entered, grabbed the sides of her skirt and curtsied, “Ma’am.”

“Ah! You there … run down to the village would you, and nip into the newsagent and bring one back some interesting reading. One is becoming extremely bored.”

The young creature looked towards the rain battered windows then back to her mistress with sad puppy-esque eyes. “Run along, dear!” One shooed with the back of one’s hand.

Following her to the front door she extended her, almost skeletal, arm towards the umbrella stand. One let out a shriek. “Good Lord! Those umbrellas are antiques, dear! You mustn’t touch them. Honestly, you shall be quite safe. Your uniform is made of synthetic fabrics so you shall be adequately protected against the rain. Now, hurry along.” Chu Me opened the great oak door and we watched her – her hand held out in front of her to shield her face from the rain – run down the saturated drive.

An hour later, one was sashaying from Litten’s – the oak-panelled bar at Crusty Hall – towards the little Dame’s room. Someone lifted one of one’s knockers and whacked it against the door. Opening it, one saw what looked like a drowned rat with the made-up face of Alice Cooper standing in front of one, shivering and clutching a sealed plastic bag. It was the member of household staff that had ran one’s errand. She handed the bag to one, to the almost Salsa-esque sound of her chattering teeth (and one must confess one felt a little shake of one’s tail-feather at the hypnotic rhythm). Then, completely unexpectedly and quite outrageously, the creature made a move to put her foot over the threshold! With the protection of the plastic bag, one propelled her back with a mighty push to her chest. One looked at her sitting there looking up at one, “Not this way, dear!” One said, closing the door, “you’ll play havoc with the parquet flooring.”

Anyhoo … One made one’s way to the Doctor Christian Room and fingered through the selection of magazines in the bag. One of the glossies that the girl had brought back was the recent edition of Closer. Reclining back on one’s chaise, one was immediately drawn – for some inexplicable reason – to the never ending, self-promoted troubles of Katie Jordan Price. It would seem that she is having a few problems with her latest beau, Leandro Penna. (Oh Lord! Here we go again!)

She has apparently told friends she feels “empty and lost”, which is quite coincidental because one has long since thought the same; one has always considered her vacuous … and … as for the point of her … one could never find it.

The report by Amy Swales, tells us she is suffering mood swings and is constantly arguing with poor Leandro about his behaviour in public and what he wears (He’s of Latin extraction, dear, he could be wearing cowbells and a smile and he’d still be stunning …whereas, if you were wearing cowbells you'd be ….well …quite at home, one fancies). The man is a successful model. One is quite sure he is highly knowledgeable about style and fashion. That is worlds apart from Katie Jordan Price who – though she may be referred to as a ‘model’ – would not have absorbed the same expertise from kneeling in a skimpy pair of pants, arching her back and thrusting forth her mammoth hooters.

The relationship situation has been made all the worse – Amy reveals - because our morsel of Argentine tottyness’ English has been improving and he’s now beginning to understand what the unnaturally blonde abomination is saying. Now … one would always urge any person one meets to learn a second language but one is saddened that one never met Leandro prior to his meeting the gutter-press goddess to whisper, “Stick with what you know, dear!” (and after all, who doesn’t adore the Spanish tongue?)

It may well be (as if one even cared) that her moodiness is being caused by the liquid diet she is on. She’s off to Marbella for a holiday and wants to lose some weight. (Holidaymakers, if you’re reading this, you still have time to pack and run ... now!). As an aside, one remmbers when one enjoyed a liquid diet some years ago. When one told the local Slimming World rep that one had lost just over a stone on it in a week, she mocked and demanded, “ What proof do you have?”

“38.5% ,dear, unless Fanny’s got an imported bottle in behind the bar.” One told her, while slapping her across the dish for her rudeness.

Having reflected upon this article, it would seem that the ceaseless stories and updates of this over-exposed eyesore are to continue. There will be a well publicised split, then when some other poor victim is drawn into the Katie Jordan Price Circus, we will be deluged with the stories of her heart-to-hearts with, not only Peter you-can-scrub-y’-washing-on-my-6-pack André, and Alex I’ll-fight-you-but-don’t-ladder-me-tights Reid but now the smoulderingly sexy deliciousness of Leandro too.

Will it ever end?! Alas, one fears not!