Posted by: thekimberleydiaries | August 30, 2009

The Kimberley Diaries – Girls Aloud Go Euro – Vol 2.3


Welcome to volume two, extract three of The Kimberley Diaries!

Oh well the wife has left me, she’d had enough of my ‘pointless’ devotion to my ‘tinpot’ publishing company and has eloped with a 19 year old called Ryan. She said that she had ‘needs’ and I wasn’t meeting them. That she was like a Porsche with the engine running at full power, while I was the elderly Sunday driver wearing a little hat, pootling along the motorway of love at 15 mph. She always talked in similes, didn’t have a clue what she was getting at most of the time. Well good luck to Ryan the poor bugger! Enough of my woes, I’ve heard that Girls Aloud are bringing out a book later this year? Pfft is what I say! This here, dear readers, is the real McCoy, bona fide, genuine, unexpurgated truth!

But then again, it might not be…!

Dear Diary y’alright love? What’s been happening lately is dead secret and I probably shouldn’t even be writing this down but like I’ve said before, one day these diaries that have remained hidden from all eyes but yours truly, may be a nice little earner for me, so sod it!

A few weeks ago I was having this strange dream. Me and the girls were in a 1980s soap opera called G.A.LLAS. It was about a family called the Richas-Fooks, we were sisters so we were all Richas-Fook.

Big Daddy had made his money by becoming a tanning oil prospector, and we were all committed to the family business because we loved to tan. But Nicola was the rebel, she stormed into Big Daddy’s plush office in a dramatic fashion one day while he and the rest of us girls were discussing sales strategies. She said was leaving the business. It broke Big Daddy’s heart. He pulled the big fat cigar from his mouth and said ‘If your Momma was alive today, she’d be turnin’ in her grave!’ Nicola narrowed her eyes a little and pouted, ‘Don’t drag Momma’s name into this! You know she had lily white skin like me! If she could see what you’ve become. Why, it would tear her apart! And give her nasty sunburn too!’ Big Daddy got angry while we stood by with our hands on hips and pouting. ‘You are goddamn ungrateful missy! Go on leave! Don’t you realise this is my dream. The future’s bright! The future’s orange!’ I spoke up ‘Why Big Daddy! That should be an advertisin’ slogan!’ Sarah then said ‘Big Daddy, you are soooo clever!’ Big Daddy grinned smugly and turned back to Nicola. She glared at me and said ‘What do you care about the business? All you care about is how big your hair is! Spraying it and then spraying it some more!’ I frowned and plumped up my hair, ‘I thought it was looking a bit flat today!’ Cheryl smiled ‘Miss Kim hun, your hair is so big it could block out the midday Texas sun!’ Nadine eyed up my bouffant, ‘Why girl, that could get caught up in telephone lines!’ Nicola thumped Big Daddy’s desk, ‘See! It’s all big hair and shoulder pads around here! Sarah has got to have reconstructive shoulder surgery because of the sheer weight of those pads!’ Sarah looked at the rest of us rubbing one of her constantly aching shoulders, ‘So I got excessive, I’ve learnt my lesson!’ Big Daddy stood up and pointed towards the door, ‘Leave Miss Nicola! You ain’t no daughter of mine. You always were the white sheep of the family!’ There was a burst of dramatic music and Nicola flounced from the room.

In the next scene there was more serene music as I pretended to look through business files. Then a man came in, I think he was my beau. ‘Why Beau!’ I smiled, then I saw the frown on his face, ‘What’s the matter sugar? Have you been talking to your scientist friends again?’ Beau adjusted his cowboy hat and shook his head. ‘It’s not good news Miss Kim.’ He turned to stare out of the window majestically. ‘It may be the affluent 80s, but there are concerns,’ he turned suddenly to face me, ‘environmental concerns.’ I walked up to him and rested my hands on his broad manly shoulders. With tears in my eyes I pleaded, ‘Tell me Beau, tell me or I will simply die!’ He shook his head, ‘Oh I can’t my pretty one! Oh ok. There’s a hole in something called the ozone layer. It’s letting in the sun’s harmful rays. It was caused by over usage of hairspray.’ I defensively put my hand to gravity-defying ‘do. ‘Miss Kim, the hole is over this very house!’ There was dramatic music again and suddenly Cheryl, Nadine, Sarah and Nicola were also in the room, glaring at me with their lipglossed lips slightly parted. ‘YOU BITCH!’ they cried in unison! Oh god! Was it really my fault? ‘Oh no I feel terrible! How can I balance my karma? How can I undo my hair wrongs? Oh I don’t know! I don’t know…’

Then I woke up, I was turning my head from side to side murmuring ‘I don’t know, I don’t know…’ I was so annoyed, I can’t believe I didn’t get to balance my karma! I tried to fall asleep again and get back to the dream, but my mobile beeped. Pah! It was a text from Jenny Jen. It said ‘Come to the record company immediately! And take the secret route! x’ Ah yes the secret route, not many people know about that. I opened my wardrobe door, and slid down the fireman’s pole hidden behind the clothes. It leads down to an underground tunnel where a monorail runs through connecting me and the girls to each other’s homes, the record company and other places of importance, you know, the Spar, the off licence, TanTastic. It was a bit pricey to build but it’s dead handy if I want to pop out for a pint of milk and don’t want to be snapped by the paps.

The monorail was waiting for me as I reached the bottom of the pole. I hopped on and we made our way to the company building picking each Girl Aloud along the way. We had no idea what could be so urgent. We walked into the office of the Big Boss Man. He swirled around dramatically in his big leather swivel chair, well it was his second attempt, the first time he swirled too fast and was facing away from us when he stopped swirling. ‘Girls, thank you for coming here straightaway.’ We looked at each other. Cheryl spoke up, ‘What is it? Ya’ve got us all worried.’ Big Boss Man sat forward, ‘Oh it’s good news. You’re the number one single AND album in Macadamia!’ We hollered, whooped and hugged each other for about five minutes but one by one we stopped, except Sarah who was still enthusiastically leaping about going ‘WOOO!’ I asked, ‘Where the hell is Macadamia?’ ‘Is it named after the nut?’ asked Nadine. ‘Yeah like Brazil?’ frowned Nicola. ‘Hey?’ Cheryl turned to me, ‘Why isn’t there an English nut?’ I laughed ‘There is. Sarah!’ Sarah stopped whooping and laughed her head off. ‘Ya right there gals! I’m a right nuttah! WHAT AM I LIKE?’ Big Boss Man cleared his throat to attract our attention. ‘Ahem. Macadamia is a tiny country in Europe,’ he waved vaguely at the map of Europe that just happened to be on the wall, ‘population 2000, and they’ve gone GA crazy!’ We grinned at each other with the excitement. He continued, ‘And it’s by a complete fluke! A shipment of your CDs were accidentally delivered to Macadamia and they went like hot cakes! You’ve knocked ‘The Lady In Red’ by Chris DeBurgh off the number one spot!’ ‘Oh’ said Nadine with some disappointment, ‘had that song been rereleased?’ Big Boss Man said ‘Oh no no, it’s been number one since 1986! They were probably desperate for something new!’ Well this was kind of shitting on our biscuits, and a population of 2000, that wouldn’t mean that many sales. Big Boss Man sensed we weren’t that impressed. ‘Ok but that’s not all. They love you so much they have invited you to their country, they have sent a plane for you, it’s waiting in a secret location.’ ‘What we have to go now?’ said Nicola, ‘we’ve got the tour to rehearse for!’ Big Boss Man shook his head, ‘Girls, girls this is a chance to get more exposure in Europe, you can afford a few days off! Think of the Macadamian fans!’ We looked at each other, he did have a point.

So an hour later there we were with our suitcases packed. Nicola had more luggage, she noticed me looking. ‘I had to pack some pot noodle and french fries, the food might be crap.’ Sensible girl. Then we saw the plane!

‘Fackin’ ‘ell’ shouted Sarah, ‘I’m not flyin’ in that fing!’ ‘Oh. My. God. It’s got a fookin’ outside toilet!’ exclaimed Nicola. Big Boss Man shoved us towards the plane. ‘You’ll be fine girls, you’ll be fine. The pilot has years of experience!’ Then we saw the pilot.


‘Guten tag! I am Brünhilde, your pilot for this flight.’ We murmured hello to her. Cheryl whispered to me, ‘Seriously, is someone takin’ the piss? She’s ancient!’ I don’t think Brünhilde would have heard her anyway. ‘Hop in meine lieblings! It’s a bit cosy but I’m sure you’ll fit in, you are so slim. I haven’t seen my waist since 1947.’ She seemed lovely so we got in reluctantly. With our suitcases it was really cramped! ‘Jaysus’ hissed Nadine, ‘I’m shittin’ mahself here!’ ‘You know, when I’m really nervous,’ I said, ‘I find singing show tunes helps.’ The other girls groaned. Pfft! I crossed my arms and pouted. Sarah said ‘Well it would help if there was a drinks trolley, but there’s no chance of that!’ Brünhilde, who was just starting the plane, turned around ‘I have this girls,’ she waved a half full bottle of vodka and took a swig, ‘you are most welcome to have a mouthful or two!’ We stared at each other in shock! ‘Oh great! She’s also gettin’ drunk!’ said Cheryl. Brünhilde shook her head ‘Cheryl baby, worry not. I can fly this plane with my eyes closed, which is just as well, I have cataracts and I can’t afford the operation! Being a little drunk won’t make any difference. I know this route like the back of my hand. I used to fly to England all the time, I had an English boyfriend, oh he was so handsome, and the things we used to do…’ ‘If she starts talking about her sex life I’m definitely getting off this feckin’ plane!’ whispered Nadine. But it was too late, we were in the air, holding each other hands and praying we’d get there safely!

A couple of hours later, we landed. We were traumatised not just by the flight but the lurid details of Brünhilde’s rampant love affairs. ‘I feel sick’ moaned Nicola as we got out of the plane. I don’t blame her, I’ll never look at bratwurst in the same way again! Ew!

A very smart man was waiting for us. He introduced himself as Jean-Paul Fluerten-Huerger. He said he was head of Macadamia’s only TV company and he had an exciting proposition for us. Things were suddenly looking up. As we were driven to the TV station we took in the sights, a lot of it was unspoiled countryside until we got to the capital. We were led into Jean-Paul’s office and offered a seat. Jean-Paul rubbed his hands together and began. ‘Ladies, I am so privileged that you have agreed to accept our invitation to our small, humble country.’ We smiled politely and thanked him for inviting us. ‘Your popularity here has given me, if I say so myself, a brilliant idea! You see, for the first time ever our country has a chance to compete in the Eurovision Song Contest! It is an opportunity for the rest of the world to become aware of Macadamia. Our most famous singer Gari Hinterliebe was all set to represent us. But a rather unseemly incident has taken place.’ Us girls looked at each other wondering what he’d done. ‘Suffice to say the goat has dropped charges since then, but we really can’t have such a scandal damaging the integrity of this nation!’ Sarah laughed ‘Yeah think of the kids!’ There was silence, this really wasn’t the time for jokes. ‘Ya know, kids… goats… oh never mind!’ Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow and then continued. I have the song on here on my state-of-the-art cassette machine. He pressed play and a jaunty tune started, then Gari Hinterliebe started to sing…

‘The grass upon the meadow
The sun up in the sky
The smiles on children’s faces
The way the birdies fly
My love is like an onion
The layers that it holds
It has a burning yearning
A message to be told

I’m blowing on the pipe of peace…’

‘On the pipe of Pete?’ frowned Sarah, ‘Is that the name of the goat?’ she laughed again, the rest of us tried to stifle our giggles. Cheryl whispered to me ‘That song is shite! There’s no way we’re doing it!’ Jean-Paul stopped the tape. ‘You are quite right! The song is shit! But our neighbouring countries are also in Eurovision this year, they are our friends and will vote for us!’ I said, ‘But if we were doing Eurovision we’d represent the United Kingdom.’ ‘Oh would we now?’ gasped Nadine, ‘What if I want to represent Ireland? Ireland have won more times than the UK!’ Cheryl, Nicola, Sarah and I went ‘Oooooooh!’ Cheryl held up her hands and said ‘That is beside the point, we aren’t doing it, we’ll look like right twats singing that shite!’ Jean-Paul smiled, ‘But you will get exposure all over the world. I have this photo to show you how you will look. None of that saucy attire you wear in your pop videos, you will wear neck-to-floor frocks. My son is learning Photoshop and put this together for me.’ He passed around the photo.


‘Thing is, he also superimposed your heads on more inappropriate pictures. Let us just say that I have confiscated his computer now!’ It wasn’t looking good, I wanted us to leave immediately. ‘Monsieur Fluerten-Huerger,’ I said smiling my sweetest smile, ‘I think we will politely turn down your kind offer.’ Jean-Paul suddenly looked quite angry, ‘To turn us down is an insult to our nation! It is treachery! Punishable by prison!’ Oh bugger! What could we do? Before we could say anything else, he added, ‘There is a press conference at 6pm this evening. You have a few hours to relax and prepare yourselves. Our new translator has prepared some statements for you. Please learn them in time for the conference. Good day to you!’ And with that we were ushered out of the office, our statements in hand and driven to a hotel.

We gathered in Cheryl’s room looking miserable about how the day had gone so far. Nadine cried ‘I really don’t want to do the Eurovision Song Contest! But we can’t go to prison, we’re too prutty! Mrs Big or Frau Gross or whatever she’s called here, will corner me in the showers and make me her bitch!’ Sarah stared at Nadine, ‘Oi! Why would she make you her bitch? What the bleedin’ ‘ell’s wrong with me eh?’ ‘Well you might be her bitch too! But she’d pick me first!’ shrugged Nadine. ‘I dunno, you always ‘ave to be favourite Nadine! Offerin’ to cut her gnarly toenails, givin’ her chocolate and generally brown-nosin’ ‘er. What about the rest of us gals?’ Nicola spoke up ‘You can fookin’ have Madame Gross, her giant bosoms scare me!’ ‘STOP!’ Cheryl shouted ‘What the fuck are you all talking about? There is no Frau Gross, we aren’t going to prison, we aren’t doing the Eurovision Song Contest! We’ll do this press conference, go home and then say we can’t do it, as long as we don’t sign anything, we’ll be fine.’ I added that Cheryl was probably right, that we should just learn the statements, smile, wave goodbye and never come back.

So we planned to do our own thing for a few hours. Sarah and Nadine fancied a lie down, Nicola said she could ‘fookin’ murder’ a pot noodle. Meanwhile, I wanted to have a look around the city, so me and Cheryl went out to look at the shops before they closed. After a while we were feeling even more depressed. ‘Honestly Kimberley! The shops are shit around here!’ I nodded but then something caught my eye. ‘Those are nice earrings in that window!’ We crossed the road to have a better look. ‘Ooh!’ I continued, ‘That’s the size I was looking for and they’ve got them in lots of colours too!’ Cheryl looked up at the shop sign, ‘Kimberley, those are hula hoops and this is a sports shop!’ I was so disappointed (and a little embarrassed lol!).

We went back to the hotel to learn the statements, the language was strange, a mix of German, French and Swedish, oh and Nicola reckoned there was a bit of Scouse in there too. Anyway, we just about got the hang of the pronunciation. The car arrived to take us to the TV studios and we got a briefing from Jean-Paul. ‘So ladies, I will introduce you and you will read your statements to the press, we have screens to show you the English translations so that we can show the footage to the world! But there is a slight delay, so you won’t know what you have said straightaway.’ I pulled a face. ‘Don’t worry ladies, they are very standard statements, ‘We love this country’ ‘We are full of gratitude for your hospitality’ et cetera et cetera!’

Then Jean-Paul left us to introduce us, we were so nervous! We then walked out to the press and sat down. Sure enough the screens were in front of us to tell us what we had said. Cheryl said her statement first. The press people nodded and smiled. The translation came up, ‘We are so proud to be invited to your fine country.’ Then Nadine. Again they smiled and ‘You are most hospitable hosts’ came up on the screen. Then it was my turn, I looked at the words and started to speak. I finished the statement and smiled. There were a few gasps and then a deadly silence. Oh dear, something wasn’t right! I looked at the screen.

Oh no! The crowd were getting angry. Jean-Paul glared at me. ‘Young lady what do you think you are doing? You have insulted a whole nation!’ ‘What? You gave me those words! I didn’t know what I was saying!’ He quickly ushered us out of the room while trying to quiet the increasingly angry mob. Once we were in the back room he turned around to us, ‘You cannot represent us in Eurovision anymore! You are disrespectful!’ I felt like crying! ‘Hang on a minute!’ said Cheryl, ‘Monsieur Fluerten-Huerger, didn’t you say you had a new translator?’ The penny was beginning to drop. ‘He didn’t have greenish skin and an Irish accent did he?’ I asked. Then behind us we heard… ‘Top o’ da mornin’ to ya!’ Yes it was the soul of our evil ex-manager Huey Felch! Again! ‘Oh for fack’s sake!’ groaned Sarah. ‘Oh dearie me girls! Looks like you’ve offended the good people of Macadamia! I guess my translation skills aren’t quite up to scratch yet, muah ha ha ha! But while I’m here, Nadine? How about me an’ you representin’ Ireland?’ Sarah turned to Nadine, Nadine nodded at Sarah, and Sarah turned back round and kneed Huey in the crotch! LOL! ‘Ooh!’ said Sarah, ‘I felt something crunch then!’ I asked ‘Oh god it wasn’t your knee was it?’ ‘Oh no, it was one of his bollocks!’ ‘Oh that’s alright then!’ I shrugged.

Jean-Paul was making a call. The crowd outside were getting noisier, we could hear glass smashing. They were really fucking angry! ‘You will have to leave the country immediately! Your luggage is being collected now and I have called Brünhilde, she will pick you up in 30 minutes!’ I still felt awful. How could I balance my karma after upsetting all these people? I didn’t know what to do, it was going to turn out like my dream! Cheryl read my thoughts, ‘Kimberley pet. You don’t have to balance your karma this time, you’ve done us a favour! And it was Felch’s words not yours.’ I smiled at her sadly, she was right but those words had come from my poutsome lips!

Suddenly a brick flew through the window! We screamed and Jean-Paul dragged us out. We managed to sneak into a car and sped off to the airfield where Brünhilde was waiting for us. That shitty plane looked quite welcoming as we approached it. ‘Schnell meine lieblings!’ shouted Brünhilde, ‘I have already packed your luggage!’ Oh I could have kissed her, but that bratwurst story was still fresh in my mind so I decided not to. We were so happy to leave that we weren’t so bothered on the way back, Nicola even used the outside toilet! But I was still bothered about offending all those people. Then I had an idea.

When we were back on British soil, we got out of the plane. The girls made their way to the car after saying goodbye to Brünhilde but I lingered. I handed a cheque to her, she squinted to look at it. ‘What is this?’ she asked. ‘It’s to pay for your cataract operation.’ ‘Oh Kimberley liebling! Danke schöne! I will tell the people of Macadamia you are a good girl really! Don’t you worry!’ I smiled with relief, my karma had been balanced after all. ‘Thank you, that makes me feel a lot better!’ Brünhilde nodded, ‘Ah you are indeed a saint!’

Aww bless!


© Lisa Allen 2008


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