Can you imagine getting to meet the one [famous] person that you completely adore and want to slip a digit? Imagine how excited you'd be if you were to find out that the very wo/man you think about every night before you go to sleep (twice) was coming to your town and that you had as good a chance as any ned in tapered jeans of meeting her. You'd be pretty excited right? I know if there were even a chance in 1 million of me meeting my britney then I'd pretty much do anything to see it through. So, having followed my semi hate for one woman that my lovely friend obsesses over, you will know that hearing that Jordan was to be appearing in some shit straight bar would have The Queen of Fun as excitable as a lesbo at her first touch of someone else's minge. The Queen does not do emotion. The only declarations of emotion that I have witnessed from the lady in 4 years is an over show of self-love so when I got the call from her trying to tell me that her woman was coming to visit her, I myself was elated, if only for the fact that I got to see what The Queen looks like when excited. It was a pretty sight. We had to go. Just for The Queen's sake of course because you all know how much I dislike the trollop right? Anyway, we arrived at the straight bar in question in planty of time and were faced with more men than in a gay sauna and more burberry than celebrity party. It was vile. It was smokey and filled with groping lads with gelled forward hair and long shoes. We had half an hour too long to wait but as soon as she took a diminutive step out of the door and propped up the bar with her infamous breasts, we lost the Queen. She propelled herself forward with only adrenaline keeping her alive in the squash. She elbowed grown men with beards out of the way and slipped under BO ridden arms until she was facing Jordan and literally begging the slag for her autograph and a photo. Her bolsheyness impressed me greatly and if you ever have the pleasure of meeting The Queen or have already done so, you will understand why. The Queen is a petite, hot, femme who is quieter than a fanny fart and she will not even buy a drink at the bar so to see her in there, in the rabble of all them sweaty lads was a sight I will never see again but one which makes me smile. She put up with abuse from the men around her and the 'flattery' that was thrown her way and when one such filthy brute told The Queen he'd rather shag her than Jordan, she hastily replied that she'd rather shag Jordan than him anyday. Go lesbo. I myself only attempted to get to the front because it was I who held the camera and it was all for The Queen that Gobby Bobby was climbing over the furniture trying to get a picture of more than just her tits. I'm surprised there wasn;t an injury or 8. Needless to say that we left as soon as the goods were delivered to find a more comfortable, ned-free bar so The Queen could tell the world and anyone else that she had met her lady. The once fresh autogrpah now has prize position under her pillow and only makes an appearance once the lights go out and Pam comes over to play.
Anyway, am still deeply traumatised about the leering men in the drippingly sweaty bar and must go bleach my entire body to erase any trace they may have left behind as they patted and caressed their way to get to Jordan before launching into a humiliating rendition of 'get yer tits oot for the lads' Oh I love Aberdonians I really really do.