by Helly Acton
1. Why did you dump Amy?
It’s simple. Amy’s a lovely girl. We were just at different stages. She had marriage and kids on her mind, and I had Headplace on mine. That’s my recruitment start-up. Headplace.
2. Why didn’t you just talk to her?
You know what women of a certain age are like. Tears and drama. Amy’s obsession with getting married put a lot of pressure on me, and I admit I buried my head in the sand. But I was trying to get Headplace up and running, and she knew that. It was all too much. Guys, I’m sure you can relate. But hey, that’s in the past, and I can move on.
3. Will you meet up after the show?
We’ll definitely be friends.
No we won’t.
And who knows what the future holds?
Not you.
This experience has been amazing for us. We’ve both grown on the journey. We’ll have to see what happens in four weeks. Never say never!
Never, you twat.
Amy looks up and opens her mouth to vent. But she stops when she sees that everyone’s looking just as outraged. She’ll save it for later, over a prosecco or few.
She turns back to the phone and googles ‘Amy Wright The Shelf’.
About 5,000,000 results.
And there she sees it, at the top of the images. A meme of her sobbing with that tissue stuck to her eye.
EVERY TIME A MAN SAYS ANYTHING #tissuefacegirl
She rolls her eyes, scrolls down the first page and clicks on a review.
Pick of the week: Gemma vs Flick: the battle of the same sexes continues
Are you #teamgemma or #teamflick? That’s the question on everyone’s lips this week as reality smash hit The Shelf continues to bring the nation to a screeching halt every night. We’re halfway through the girls’ four-week experience and we’re hooked on the cringeworthy tension between Gemma Burns (Girl Power) and Flick Brimble (Girly Girl). It’s brilliantly uncomfortable TV that’s dividing the country in two and if you haven’t already, it’s time to join the conversation. One thing is for certain: the groundswell of support for Gemma from the female half of the population is growing. And fast. Watch out, lads! The Shelf continues on Real TV every night at 9 p.m.
‘My God, what drainpipe did he come crawling out of?’ mutters Jackie.
The rest of them look up.
‘I went out with this moron years ago, and he’s just given an interview to The Sun claiming he regrets breaking up with me and that I’m the one that got away! Believe me, mate, you were draped in red flags from the moment I met you. He tried to order my food for me on our first date. Control freak alert!’
The comment stays with Amy as she moves back to the garden, reading a post by a stay-at-home mum about the discrimination she faces in the playground when other mums find out she doesn’t work.
Since when did staying at home become a crime? All I’m trying to do is support my family, and it works for us.
Some of the comments she’s had are awful, calling her entitled, lazy, smug and spoilt.
Amy shuts Facebook down. She’s sick of strangers commenting on other people’s lives. Everyone needs to leave each other alone and just let us be, she thinks.
Jackie’s comment about her ex has given Amy an idea for a blog post. She opens up WordPress and logs into Wandering Amy, the blog she was writing when she first met Jamie. The more time they spent together, which was a lot at the start, the less time she spent writing, and eventually she stopped completely. It was hard to post a listicle about ‘10 Things to Do in London This Weekend’ if all you ever did was sit on a sofa at the local pub or at home watching The X Factor.
Her last entry was a month into their relationship: ‘Why the Cotswolds is the Best Spot For Your First Couple Getaway’. She didn’t think the Cotswolds was the best spot for your first couple getaway. She’d just always wanted to go. So she wrote it, published it and sent the link to Jamie with a wink emoji.
He never replied, and they never went.
The rest of her posts are clichéd London lifestyle features, about where to eat, date, drink, shop and explore. She remembers how much she’d loved it at the time, for giving her a reason to get up early and explore the city on a Saturday. She’d stroll the streets and eat happily by herself, knowing she was doing it for a purpose. Taking photos, jotting notes, making every weekend moment count. By herself. And, when she’d finally had the confidence to push the site live and start posting on social media, she’d felt a huge rush of personal achievement that she’d never felt before.
Well, maybe not about ‘21 Surprising Facts About Foxes’.
She had forgotten about Wandering Amy, but she hadn’t forgotten how much she loved the process, which is why she’d started scribbling down ideas for a new blog last year. What Jackie just said has stirred something inside her, and she has thirty minutes to get it live.
Twenty-Six
All the Warning Signs He’s Not the One
Hi. It’s me, Amy Wright. Or perhaps you know me as one of those poor women who was dumped for entertainment in front of millions of people on hit show The Shelf.
Could you handle the humiliation of having your break-up broadcast for everyone to watch? Having every move filmed and every word analysed over a month? Having your worth valued on whether you can look after a baby, stay calm in the face of unfair criticism and keep your hair perfect at all times? I know I’ve struggled, but I’m still here, hanging on.
I’ve come this close *pinching my fingers* to leaving the house, but I’m so happy I’ve stayed. I’ve learnt more about myself in the last two weeks than I have in the last two years. But it isn’t the tasks and challenges that have taught me. The lessons I’ve learnt have come from the unlikely friendships I’ve made with a group of incredible women who share much more than this ridiculous experience. With women who share the strength of character that it takes to stay, endure and come out the other side laughing.
I’m being soppy. I’ll stop.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt from the women around me is that listening to your gut is more important than obsessing over the size of it. To pay attention when that nagging feeling begins to scratch at the back of your mind. Almost every relationship story I’ve heard on here shares a similar beginning.
‘I ignored the signs.’
‘I heard alarm bells.’
‘In hindsight, I should have ended it then.’
‘It was a major red flag.’
I’ve come to realise the importance of listening to that quiet inner voice when it whispers that something’s not right – not shutting it down in a desperate attempt to find love. To trust my instincts when they tell me he won’t make me happy.
From this day forward I pledge to listen to my gut. And to help me remember, I’ve decided to list all the red flags I should watch out for, whether it’s a first date or a fiftieth.
99 Red Flags to Watch Out For
If they call their ex ‘crazy’.
If they never say sorry.
If they’re rude to service staff.
If they accuse you of loving your family more.
If they only want to spend time with you, no one else.
If they only tell jokes at your expense.
If they hate dogs.
If they refuse to talk about the future after six months.
If you haven’t met their friends after three months.
If they take credit for your achievements.
If they watch – or – worse, comment on, what you eat.
If they pour themselves a glass of wine and don’t offer you one.
If they don’t ask you any questions.
If they don’t listen to your answer when they do.
If they play the victim when they’re in the wrong.
If they can’t have an argument without storming off.
If they’re annoyed that you don’t want sex at 1 a.m after a fourteen-hour day.
If they’re annoyed that you don’t wa
nt sex full stop.
If they answer the phone during sex when you do want it.
If they blame you for every little thing that goes wrong.
If they don’t text you back, but they’re always on their phone.
If they freak out if you don’t reply to a message immediately.
If they tell you they love you after the first date.
If they don’t like your friends.
If they text you constantly when you’re out with your friends.
If their favourite show is The Big Bang Theory.
If they don’t let you look at their phone.
Twenty-seven is a weird number, but sadly my time is up, readers. Women and men of the Internet, help me complete this list by tweeting your #99redflags and lets start taking better care of ourselves and each other out there.
Amy x
Twenty-Seven
‘How many more days do we have left in here?’ asks Gemma, picking the ham out of her sandwich and tossing the bread to one side of her plate. ‘Who wants my bread?’
‘You asked for a ham salad sandwich, you plonker,’ Jackie says, sitting down with a liquid lunch of prosecco. ‘Ten days if we make it to the final.’
‘It’s a breadless sandwich,’ Gemma responds, picking up the ham, lettuce and tomato with both hands. ‘I’m off carbs. But if I eat it like it’s a sandwich, it tricks my body into thinking I’m fuller.’ She takes a bite, with tomato juice running down her hands. ‘Diet is all about mind control,’ she says, placing her index finger on her forehead, leaving a smear of tomato juice.
‘Maybe that’s why I never diet,’ says Jackie. ‘I don’t even think about it. When did everyone start hating carbs?’
‘You don’t diet because you never eat, you just drink. Prosecco is full of sugar, you know,’ Flick says, disapprovingly.
Jackie pokes her tongue out at Flick and refills her glass.
‘Housemates, please go to the living room.’
‘Ugh, here we go,’ grumbles Jackie, downing it.
‘Oh hellooooo, ladies!’ screeches Adam Andrews in an over-the-top posh voice. He’s wearing a straw hat bedecked with flowers and a matching dress, holding a china teacup. ‘How aaaaare we all?’ he says, fluttering his eyelashes and pursing his lips.
He’s in the garden of a stately home, having a cream tea. Two female guests are seated on a bench in front of him. They look as if they’ve stepped out of a Laura Ashley catalogue from 1994.
‘Who are these curtains?’ asks Jackie.
‘Today we are graced with the presence of two princesses of elegance and etiquette’ – he bows his head, flutters his fingers and clinks the teacup on the table – ‘and they’ve been teaching me a thing or two about my table manners. It’s Meredith Mercer and Jemima Soames from Ms Prim and Ms Proper!’
The camera pans to a clapping audience, dotted around the garden in front of their own cream tea spreads. They hold their cups up and cheer hooray.
‘And a big welcome to our competition winners, who are lucky enough to join me and my two guests of honour at Kenwood House for this very fancy edition of The Shelf.’
The camera turns to Meredith and Jemima, who are sitting as though they have rods in their backs, smiling at the cameras.
‘So, who’s prim and who’s proper?’ Adam asks as he stands up, moves over and squeezes between them on their bench, making them visibly uncomfortable.
‘Well, Adam,’ responds the one on the left. ‘We’re both prim and both proper. That’s what three years at an elite Swiss finishing school for young ladies teaches you.’
‘How delightful. And isn’t this just lovely,’ Adam says as he grabs a brownie, takes a large bite and smiles with an open mouth to reveal chocolate-caked teeth. Meredith and Jemima audibly gasp.
Swallowing, and picking his teeth for the cameras, Adam continues.
‘So, tell us what we have in store for our next challenge, ladies. It’s a terribly exciting one, I know that much.’
‘Well, Adam,’ says Meredith, glancing occasionally at the camera. ‘You may know that Jemima and I have a new show on Real TV called Ms Prim and Ms Proper—’
‘It’s on every Sunday at six p.m.,’ interjects Jemima.
‘Anyway, Ms Prim and Ms Proper is all about encouraging women to rediscover their femininity. Embrace their softer side. British culture has celebrated the ladette for too long, and we want to see a return to good old-fashioned values, where women are demure.’
‘Glad to see I’m not the only one who thinks like that!’ says Flick, smiling, looking around for support she won’t get.
‘Mates of yours?’ asks Gemma. She’s standing next to the TV screen scratching her bottom through her joggers.
‘On Ms Prim and Ms Proper,’ Jemima continues, ‘we’re on the hunt to find Britain’s worst female offenders. The ill-mannered bottom-scratchers who are disgracing our gender.’
Gemma stops scratching and turns round to see who’s looking.
‘And where do you find these bottom-scratchers?’ Adam asks.
‘We trawl the darkest and dirtiest corners of Britain,’ answers Meredith. ‘Like kebab houses on a Friday night.’
The audience in the garden murmur at the offensiveness of Meredith’s comment.
‘Get a shag!’ someone shouts out. Meredith looks outraged, craning her neck to find the source of the comment. The audience laugh and jeer, while Adam stifles his sniggers.
‘It’s true,’ says Jemima, looking down her nose. ‘If we aren’t careful, we’re going to reverse the evolutionary process.’
Meredith dives in. ‘You should see the women we help. When we find them, they’re complete animals. We teach them how to behave like the fairer sex by dressing properly, talking clearly and learning the importance of self-respect and refinement.’
Jemima continues, ‘It’s no wonder that more and more British women in their prime years find themselves single today. Their tomboyish behaviour is so off-putting to the good men they’re so desperate to find.’
Another audience member interrupts. ‘What if I don’t want a man?’
Meredith and Jemima look at each other like they’ve heard this before.
‘If a woman tells you she’s happily single, she’s lying,’ Jemima replies.
The audience start jeering again and Jemima holds up her hands. ‘We’ve done the research – it’s true. Women don’t talk about it openly because they’re embarrassed they’ll look desperate. But we aren’t afraid to confront uncomfortable truths.’
Amy turns to the group. ‘I can honestly say that I’m happily single right now. And I’m not lying.’
Hattie scoffs. ‘Right now? Try forever.’
‘Boo as much as you like, but when we’re finished with these girls, they’ll be beautiful inside and out,’ says Meredith. ‘We turn them into real ladies and give them a much better chance of finding a gentleman who isn’t going to ditch them for some other floozy when they have a bun in the oven!’
‘Meredith, please,’ Jemima says, embarrassed.
Someone in the audience lobs a scone at Meredith’s head, which knocks her hat off and leaves a blob of cream on her forehead. She gasps and marches off the set, dodging more cakes flying her way.
‘Wait, come back, Meredith!’ shouts Adam, laughing. ‘Audience, please, if you throw things you’ll be thrown out.’
‘I’m not coming back until they calm down!’ Meredith shouts as the camera zooms in on her face, peering out from behind a hedge.
‘OK, well, we’re on a schedule – this is live TV! So we’ll have to carry on without you. Jemima, care to explain to the housemates what today’s challenge is?’
‘Certainly, Adam,’ Jemima says. ‘Today’s challenge is called Isn’t She Lovely? It’s about proving they can leave a lovely lasting impression.’
‘And how does it work?’
‘It’s simple, Adam. Five women, five men, five tea parties. Each housemate will host a ten-minute tea party duri
ng which their guest will ask a unique set of questions that puts their etiquette to the test. First, our housemates must choose an appropriate outfit. Second, they must choose an appropriate menu and execute it to perfection. Lastly, they must prove they know how to conduct themselves properly by taking a simple quiz during the tea party. The most exciting part is that we’re gifting the ladies with a brand-new wardrobe, thanks to our friends at Cutie Pie! All the tea party supplies thanks to our friends at Waitrose of course. And we’ve thrown a few curveballs, too, on purpose!’
‘And do you have any style tips for the girls before they start?’ Adam asks.
‘Of course. There are three basic rules I follow. One, wear a skirt or a dress. They’re more elegant, and will accentuate the feminine form men love. Two, less flesh is best – revealing clothing will leave a guest thinking he’s not the only man you want to impress. And thirdly, wear a smile. The international symbol for loveliness, and it’s free!’
‘Are you buying all this, Flick?’ Jackie turns to her.
‘I know it’s hard to hear, but it is true. Men won’t think you’re wife material if you’re running around with your cleavage on parade like you want people to look.’ She sighs. ‘And now here come the insults and death threats …’
‘OK, housemates, you know what you’ve got to do,’ says Adam. ‘Your tea party ingredients and clobber will arrive at the front door at three p.m. No bun fights, ladies – I know what you’re like!’
Twenty-Eight
Dooooong.
At the front door is a carpet of Cutie Pie boxes with notes attached, addressed personally to each contestant.
