by Becci Fox
GARY: I said that’s not enough.
PROSSIE: Twelve hundred euros.
GARY: That’s still not enough.
PROSSIE: Two thousand euros.
GARY: OK, that seems fair. But I want the money first.
You see the hilarious thing he did there? This is typical Essex wide-boy humour. And then he told me he actually got her down to €500, so she got his business in the end. Seriously, I’m not joking. He gave me that information. Then he asked me my most dreaded question in the world: ‘So what do you do?’ It shows you have no imagination if you’re asking a girl what she does for a living.
‘I’m an actress,’ I lied.
‘Oh yeah, what you been in?’
‘EastEnders? I played Michelle Fowler’s daughter Vicki in the early days.’ That’s my favourite lie of all time because people can’t challenge it and they’re always well impressed. I could see he was gagging for me to ask him back, so I said, ‘And what do you do, then?’
‘I’m a plumber,’ he replied. At least he was honest, but it didn’t stop there. ‘I wanted to be a gynaecologist because it sounded like a proper mint job. But then I thought, hold up, those birds are there for a reason. They’ll be all the manky old ones with maggots dropping out of them. So that’s why I became a plumber instead.’
I swear this bloke had practised these ‘jokes’ in front of a mirror. It was well tragic. I actually couldn’t talk to him any longer so I told him I was going for a smoke.
Outside I did see a prostitute in a red dress, but that could have been another hen do. I did think, if that is her, what a shitty life having to shag plums like Gary. I had to ponce a fag off someone because I only smoke when depressed. I think being back in a marina environment just reminded me of Monaco, especially since I wasn’t getting on any yachts this time. I’d properly taken that lifestyle for granted, and now I was in a dive full of ugly people. Bastard HQ had shown me the high life to make the low life that much more painful. Although the good news was that everyone else was plastered, even Emily, so they were all fine.
But don’t worry, salvation was just around the corner in Antonio Banderas Square (it’s seriously called that). As soon as we entered this club called TIBU, I felt right at home. So this was where all the fit blokes had been hiding! My faith restored, I decided I had to get involved in this whole hen do thing. I think I’ve got some sort of allergy to ugly surroundings and ugly people so that’s why I was struggling before. TIBU had a much more sophisticated vibe going on. All you need is swathes of white material in a club and you’ve Essexed it up. And it had a roof terrace – that’s all I ever ask of a place.
As I danced on a table with a glass of champagne in my hand with all the girls surrounding me, I knew I’d finally arrived in Puerto Banus. I know it was Gem’s hen do, but it wasn’t going to be any good unless I was on top form, was it?
I love waking up because it means the horrors of the previous day are a distant memory. I was completely psyched for what lay ahead: the famous Ocean Club Champagne Spray Party and after-party at Funky Buddha. Personally, this was the main event for me. I’d humoured Gem with the whole dressing-up thing, but this was where the luxury started. We grabbed our bikinis and were out that skuzzy little flat faster than you can say Veuve Clicquot.
It’s all about the beach clubs in Marbs, but you got to pay the price if you want to have a good time. The Ocean Club was €3,000 for a giant VIP sunbed between us and a bottle of champagne each, but if you think about it, that means only good-looking, rich people can get into these events.
The TOWIE lot seemed to have spent their summer at the new place, Sisu Boutique, but I like to keep it old school, and since I was the one who booked it all, I chose the location. Katie Price and some boyfriend were at the Ocean Club the month before us, so it attracts the names. And wherever the celebs go, that’s where the beautiful people go.
At noon we took up our residency by the pool, where we’d be spending the next eight hours sunbathing, dancing and spraying champagne on each other. I’ll let you into a secret, though. I’ve never sprayed champagne on anyone in my life. I actually get quite upset at the thought of abusing these bottles of Veuve when I should be drinking it. So what I do is let people spray me and I usually find there’s a lot of takers. As long as I’m not the one shaking the bottle up, I love being covered in expensive champagne.
It was while we were lying by the pool that there was a small incident between me and Brooke. Maybe all the excesses of the party had gone to Brooke’s head, but she actually started talking to me about her and Charlie. At first I was pretty receptive and glad she was confiding in me.
‘It’s just that I hadn’t really looked at him in that way before . . . because of you,’ she started off. ‘But then once it was happening, it made perfect sense. You don’t hate me, do you?’
‘Of course I don’t,’ I said. ‘I won’t lie, I was pretty shocked when Gem told me, but if you’re having a good time together, I can’t stand in your way. He’s a different bloke now – he’s off the steroids and he needs someone in his life too.’
Those weren’t my true feelings, but what else are you meant to say? That’s my ex-boyfriend so I own him for life?
‘And it sort of makes more sense,’ she went on, ‘because I’m short, so he’s taller than me. Whereas you were two inches taller in heels, so it looked a bit funny,’ she said, ignoring the fact that me and Charlie were the same height when I didn’t wear heels. It’s no different to what Katie Holmes has to deal with being married to Tom Cruise. I just had to stoop in stilettos. ‘I feel so lucky that I found him after all the shitty blokes I’ve had to put up with.’
‘That’s true enough. It’s all about building up self-respect. Before you know it there’ll be blokes queuing up to take you out nice places and treat you properly.’
‘You mean like blokes do with you?’
‘Well, I have a good time, so I don’t see why not.’
‘Except I don’t want any other blokes now. I just want Charlie,’ she said. I tried to say something back but nothing came out. ‘You alright?’ she said, lifting up her shades to look at me properly.
‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I be,’ I replied, regaining my composure. ‘So it’s not just a summer fling then?’
‘I thought it was, but it’s become something else. I know I’m not the soppy type, but I feel like I’ve become a lot softer as a person. And that’s down to Charlie. Like, we can just look at each other for ages without saying anything and I’ll still feel comfortable. And when I curl up into him in bed he tells me we’re a snug fit. How sweet is that? I think he’s the most attentive bloke I’ve ever been with. I’ve honestly never had so much good sex before. I mean, Charlie gets turned on very easily, doesn’t he?’
‘You what?’
‘Didn’t you find that, or is it just me?’ she said.
I’m sorry, but that’s just rude. Just as she was about to start speaking again, I reached into my glass of fizz and flicked it in her face. Right in the eyes.
‘Oh my God, what did you do that for? That fucking hurts, you bitch,’ she said, rubbing at her eye. ‘I’m going to have to take my lenses out now.’ And with that she got up and stood right on her champagne flute. It had been a childish tactic to stop her blabbing, but I never wanted shards of glass to get lodged in her foot. She looked down and went completely hysterical on me.
‘Oh my God, Brooke, I’m so sorry,’ I said repeatedly. Cleo went to get help and before we knew it Brooke was hobbling off with paramedics to get treated. It’s bad when a small gesture escalates like that. I felt pretty awful, but I can’t help it if Brooke lacks a sensitivity gene. It was bang out of order making me listen to all that.
I was treated like the bad guy all afternoon. Even though I rescued a couple of bottles of champagne from potential sprayers, everyone was well off with me, so I just hung out with other people, mainly blokes, who did have time for me.
Ryan cornered me at the b
ar later and went, ‘Why did you do it, hun?’
‘Because there’s a lot of fish to fry out there, but she chose my fish,’ I said, not making any sense. I tried again. ‘Out of all the men in the world, why’s she had to go for Charlie? I’m meant to be all supportive to her, but at the end of the day, it’s a major betrayal in our friendship. And who’s supporting me in all this? It feels like she doesn’t care about my feelings so long as she’s bagged herself a boyfriend.’
‘That’s true, but she’s not done anything any differently to what you’d do, yeah?’ said Ryan. ‘Like you always say, you’ve got to chase whatever makes you happy, and Charlie is that for Brooke.’
‘I never say that.’
‘You do all the time. You’re all like, screw the consequences and look after number one.’
‘Hmmm, I talk a lot of toot though, hun,’ I replied. ‘It would just be nice to know that people were on my side too. I mean, it’s blatantly wrong to go out with your best friend’s ex. I don’t make the rules, that’s just how it is.’
‘I reckon you need to get a little more honest with yourself instead of putting on a big front, yeah? Because we always think you’re fine with everything, but it’s like you’re bubbling away and then you explode. It’s disturbing.’
‘Fine, I will start saying it as I see it,’ I said. ‘First off, your pants are so tight I can see the outline of your dick. That’s disturbing. Secondly, I’m not ready to say sorry to Brooke yet, so don’t make me. I’ll do it in my own time.’
‘Just so long as you don’t make the rest of the hen do weird, yeah?’ he said as he turned and jumped into the pool.
I didn’t want our spat to affect the others either, but I really couldn’t promise anything.
*
Understandably, Brooke was sulking and wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the day, but to make matters worse, Karen and Paula were moaning about how much money we’d spent already. They should have counted themselves lucky because I heard they were charging £500 to go to Sisu Boutique’s TOWIE pool party. Why would you pay to see the cast when you can see them for free on Loughton High Street? The thing was, I was showing them the Marbs jet-set lifestyle at a fraction of the price. When they were going on at me I said, ‘Are we or are we not having fun at the Ocean Club?’, and they admitted they were loving it. Having a good time doesn’t come for free, you know.
Shame they hadn’t managed to look the part too. Fair enough, they couldn’t have gotten away with my denim hot pants, but it was like they were sabotaging their own tans. Karen had been wearing a swimsuit that I can only describe as a harness. She had so many straps going everywhere that by the end of the day she looked like a pork chop fresh off the griddle. And that’s another thing: why don’t people apply suntan lotion properly or reapply? When I see sunburn, I actually fill up with rage. It’s ugly and there’s no need. Ryan is a serial offender, but he always goes, ‘Nah, just you wait, I’ll be a lovely golden brown tomorrow, yeah?’ To be fair that does happen, but if he went higher than SPF4, he’d bypass the red stage. I just don’t get it.
I’d even done a bit of networking for the girls while I was meant to be chilling in the pool. These two Irish blokes were going to Funky Buddha later too, and they knew the promoter. Not only were they going to get us in for free, they would try and get us into VIP. That’s all I ever ask of life.
By the time 6 o’clock rolled round I’d properly sobered up again, which was good news because we needed to get back and get ready for the evening’s entertainment and I can’t do my make-up drunk. I was sure I’d told everyone that Sunday night was white-themed, but once again Karen and Paula hadn’t got the memo and came out their bedroom in black. What gives? No matter – I’m not precious about these things and Gemma didn’t care as long as she was having the night of her life. I’ll admit I’d broken my own dress code by wearing tiny sparkly black shorts, but I put a white kaftan over, which just about skimmed them, and wore my new Gucci gun-metal-grey python sandals.
I’d got inspired by Lydia Bright at the polo. In my opinion, she’s got the best style out of all the girls because she’s obsessed with Sarah Jessica Parker. It makes her a bit more daring in her choices. I was beside myself when I found out Lydia’s shop Bella Sorella was just down the road from me in Loughton. Jessica Wright has her lingerie shop there too, but in my opinion it looks so out of place. Look out for the candy-coloured shop front sandwiched between the shabby bookshop and a crusty old newsagent’s. Loughton High Road is hardly Fifth Avenue, but I will say one thing in its favour. Every WEG dreams of having her own boutique, so there’s not as much room for chains on the high street. I honestly reckon that’s the reason why West Essex has such a unique sense of style.
I’d been plying the girls and boy with cava the whole three hours we’d been getting ready because I’d been forced to make a decision that would get a mixed reaction. We were meant to eat at a PB institution, La Pappardella. You can’t go wrong with Italian if you need to line your stomach. But since I was cost-cutting, I cancelled that and took them all to Burger King. Oh my God, there was uproar. I tried to explain to these girls that eating out would totally zap our drinking money, but it really hadn’t sunk in that PB was about to get a whole lot more expensive. Brooke had a go at me for not booking dinner in the club, but that just showed what an amateur she was. If you go eat at a club’s restaurant, you’re just asking for aloof service and pricey menus. I want that in a club, but I don’t want that from my restaurant experience too.
So the bottom line was, I couldn’t enjoy my Whopper in peace because everyone had something to say. I mean, do I look like a holiday rep? Ryan was on my side, but Karen and Paula didn’t even back me up or thank me for budgeting. I will never diss the Chancellor of the Exchequer again because no one ever recognizes that spending cuts are for everyone’s benefit in the long-run. But here’s my advice to him – if you’re getting grief on Question Time, just get everyone down the karaoke fast. They soon forget their gripes when you whack on some Dolly Parton.
I’d reserved us a table in O’Grady’s, which is nothing fancy, just pure fun. It must be the only Irish bar in the world nestled between Burger King and Louis Vuitton. That’s PB for you. I’ve got to say, I’m a bit of a pro when it comes to this singing lark. I’m not saying I’m any good, but it’s in my blood. Whenever we used to come to PB as a family back in the day, Dad would always drag us to one of those sophisticated places on the waterfront that I mentioned. Not that he’s any good either. ‘Mack the Knife’ is his only song and he talks it rather than sings it. I’ve also dabbled in a bit of singing and dancing at the Fox Family’s other Spanish retreat in La Manga. In the Hyatt’s infamous Piano Bar you’ll find the legend that is Brian Chapman the Piano Man. You just write down your request and then he’ll tinkle out Billy Joel and Elton John classics. That’s my cue to climb up on the piano and dance, but you can only get three girls up there max. I realize this is turning in to a running theme, but it’s more fun dancing up high. Just saying. Although last time I was there, they’d banned piano dancing. Maybe someone had fallen off and spoilt it for everyone. Anyways, if you convince Brian that you’re a good enough singer, he’ll let you belt one out. I’m all for audience participation as long as it’s not bleeding ‘Mack the Knife’.
Dad actually bought a place out there over ten years ago. It’s got its own pool, which is where you’ll find me and the girls for a good eight hours. The sun’s got to be different out there because I’ve never seen myself looking so brown. I mean, you really only go to La Manga for the sun, golf or hotel bars. It’s a middle-aged man’s paradise. But the Hyatt is home to some proper scandals, like when the Leicester City team got accused of gang-banging, not to mention the Paul Gascoigne room-trashing incident and the Rio Ferdinand fight-over-a-pool-table brawl. And Dad was fuming when he got caught in Stan Collymore’s fire extinguisher explosion in the Piano Bar. If I’m to be honest, I’ve done some really bad things there too, but what
goes on in La Manga stays in La Manga. The heat can make you do crazy things.
Naturally, I was first up on the karaoke. I’m all about the show tunes and you cannot go wrong with ‘Copacabana’. The thing about that one is that it’s a story-song, so even if you’re shit, everyone wants to know what’s going to happen to Lola the showgirl. Never fails. I was made to sing the second song too as there were still no takers. Can I just say, don’t try singing Rihanna’s ‘Rude Boy’. I honestly didn’t realize how graphic the lyrics were, but once I started I had to commit. Gem’s mum was open-mouthed throughout. I suppose it was a leap from Barry Manilow.
Cleo forced herself to sing Katy Perry just to get me off the mic. As she started singing, I spotted Ryan leave the bar. I assumed he’d gone out for a fag, but when he hadn’t returned after thirty minutes, I decided I had to track him down. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I found him. There he was sat at a table outside La Pappardella with a huge bowl of creamy Carbonara and a lovely glass of red wine.
‘Oh I see, I see, having a posh dinner for one, are we?’ I said.
‘Oh my God, how did you find me?’
‘Hun, you’re never far behind an Italian waiter. What you playing at?’
‘I didn’t want a dirty burger. My body’s a temple, yeah? And it needs proper fuel.’
‘But why did you say you were happy going to Burger King?’
‘Yeah, I was happy for all you lot to go there, just had my own plans. Didn’t want to tempt anyone to overspend, did I?’ he replied.
‘Give me a mouthful and I won’t tell anyone,’ I said, taking two huge mouthfuls. Is there anything nicer than cream, mushrooms and fettucine when you’re drunk? As I went in for a third, Ryan grabbed the fork off me.
‘Oi, leave off,’ he protested. ‘You’ve had your Whopper and you gotta deal with that now, yeah?’
God, I was well jel at Ryan’s ingenuity. If I hadn’t been in charge of this sham of a hen do, I’d have been sat there myself.