by James Argent
On one occasion, a pair of expensive sunglasses that belonged to one of the boys got smashed up while he was in the pool, which led to a heated argument. Sometimes, it would get out of control. If one of us got lucky with a girl and stayed away from the hotel, then the chances were that somebody would take a leak in their bed. They would come back to find their bed soaked and would have to change the sheets and dry out the mattress.
On another occasion someone found a turd strategically placed outside the door to their room! It all sounds disgusting now, but I can’t help but laugh. We were all in our late teens and early twenties and it was our way of letting off steam.
The pièce de résistance of the bad behaviour came courtesy of a boy called Andretti (the one who’d missed out on the holiday in Cancún). He nearly got us all arrested by chucking a full-sized television set from the top of a balcony. When it happened I couldn’t believe my eyes. I turned around to see Andretti struggling to lift up the giant telly. Then, as he shuffled towards the balcony with it in his arms, I had to do a double take. Surely not?
‘Andretti, no – don’t do it,’ one of us screamed, as he slowly moved towards the balcony with the intention of hurling it over.
A few us tried to stop him, but it was too late, and, to be honest, most of us were crying with laughter by now. I watched as Andretti made his way to the edge and let go of the giant TV. There was a split second of silence before . . .
Boom!
There was a deep, rumbling explosion that sounded like an earthquake. Surely, this would bring the manager running up to us! We all scattered back to our respective rooms and decided to lie low for a while. We hoped we would get away with it, but soon all hell broke loose. The manager charged up to our floor and threatened to call the police. Until now we’d managed to explain away any damage that we had caused as being accidental. Either that or we would blame it on someone else. But there was no way out of this one because it was a TV set from one of our own bedrooms.
We pleaded with the manager not to call the cops and in the end he relented on condition that we pay a big fine to cover the cost of the TV. It must have been an expensive TV set because we were charged around €2,000. Andretti had initially been regarded as a bit of a hero for doing something so outrageous, but we were now cursing him, since he didn’t have enough cash to pay. It was decided that the damages would have to be split between us, so we all chipped in what amounted to around a couple of hundred euros each. It was an expensive prank.
When the last day of the holiday arrived, it felt as if I’d been in a war zone, although of course secretly I loved every minute.
‘What are you planning to do today, Arg?’ one of the boys asked me.
I decided that I wanted to spend the last day chilling out and topping up my tan.
‘I’m just going to relax by the pool,’ I answered.
‘OK, that’s cool.’
Little did I know that the banter and pranks traditionally increased to frenzy levels on the last day. As I lay by the pool relaxing in the sunshine, nursing a light hangover, I noticed that a lot of the other boys kept popping back to the hotel.
Maybe they need a bit of shade after all the partying, I thought.
By the end of the afternoon, they’d all come back and I noticed one of two of them giggling and laughing. When I went back to the room that night I realised what they’d been up to. My room was like a complete bombsite! My clothes were everywhere. There were boxer shorts stuffed in the freezer and garments scattered everywhere that had been covered in shaving foam.
I went to the balcony and looked across the courtyard. There, at the top of a palm tree, was my suitcase. How they managed to get it there I had no idea, but I had to go and knock it down with a stick. When I finally got it back inside, there was one last nasty little surprise inside it. By now the other boys were crying with laughter, so I should have known there was more to come. As I opened the bag the smell hit me. Inside there was a plastic bag that contained a brown gooey mess. I’ll leave it to your imagination as to what it was, but let’s just say it wasn’t leftover tapas! The boys all thought that it was hysterical and I had just become the first victim of what officially became known as the Phantom Shitter. To this day I have no idea who did it – nobody was going to own up to it in a hurry. In subsequent holidays it became a great talking point, with everybody living in fear of falling victim to the Phantom!
That first holiday in Marbella had been a wild experience, and, despite having fallen victim to a fair bit of practical joking, I’d enjoyed every moment. Everyone dished it out and everyone had to take it, so it wasn’t as if I was alone. As I flew back to England, the only small disappointment was that I still hadn’t managed to pull a girl. Of course, most of the boys around me had enjoyed plenty of action in this respect over the course of the holiday. Chasing girls was one of the chief activities in Marbella, but, as usual, I’d scored a duck.
While the boys were out pulling, nearly every night I would end up in either the pizza or kebab shop at 3 a.m. I’d get a takeaway and end up eating in quietly in my room while the other lads were pairing off with the girls. Sometimes there would be somebody getting passionate in the room at the time, which made things a bit awkward, to say the least.
I needn’t have worried, because, although I didn’t know it at the time, my luck with girls was about to change when I arrived back in Essex.
5
A HAIRCUT FROM HELL AND A CRAZY GIRL WITH PERFUME IN HER MOUTH
It was the summer of 2008 and I was about to meet a girl who would change my life. I was twenty at the time and, as my mates helpfully kept reminding me, I was still a virgin. The fact that I’d never slept with anyone was beginning to play on my mind due to all the leg pulling that I went through from mates who seemed to be enjoying the company of plenty of women. I felt like the odd one out and the longer it went on the more nervous I became around the opposite sex. It was two and a half years before the launch of The Only Way Is Essex and I looked like a very different person back then. For a start, I had a skinhead haircut, which didn’t suit me at all. In fact, it made me look dreadful. The reason I’d had it done was that Mark Wright and Jack Tweed had a little tradition that they’d get their hair cropped short into a skinhead every year, at the start of the summer. It looked cool and they’d let it grow out for the rest of the year. They were good-looking boys, so it was a style that suited them both. I decided I’d join them: after all, we were mates and I thought it’d be fun. As soon as I saw my reflection in the mirror, I realised it was a mistake. I’ve got huge ears that stuck out like bat’s wings and a big nose, so a skinhead made me look awkward and strange. At this point in my life I weighed 18 stone and, worse still, my head was covered with moles.
‘I don’t think I look too great,’ I told Mark, who I suspected probably had a good laugh at my new look.
I had my haircut from hell shortly before we were all getting ready to go to one of the biggest events in the Essex social calendar: the Duke of Essex Polo Trophy. It was an annual event held at Gaynes Park in Epping, and it always drew huge crowds. The highlight was a big polo match between England and Argentina, which would be attended by various celebrities and VIPs, some of whom would arrive by helicopter. At night-time it turns into a massive party with DJs and music. People look forward to it all year round because everyone gets suited and booted and all the beautiful women turn out in their finest dresses. It is a bit like Essex’s answer to Royal Ascot, and I remember that the boys and I were really up for it. I wore a black suit with a white shirt and tried to look my best, despite the skinhead hairdo.
The event itself was fantastic. Jade Goody was there with Jack and she wore a stunning black-and-white dress and matching black hat. Other celebs who arrived early included the models Caprice and Danielle Lloyd and the singer Simon Webbe. As usual, Mark, Jack and I were out to have some fun. The sun was shining and we eagerly tucked into the champagne, and by the time the evening came along I was a litt
le bit tipsy. There was a great disco and the boys and I were all dancing and really going for it. While we were partying, I looked across the dance floor and spotted a girl I knew. Her name was Robyn and she was somebody whom I’d always got on with quite well as a friend. Secretly, I quite fancied her, and with the drinks flowing I wondered if now might be a good time to approach her. I paused for a moment wondering what to do – after all I’d hardly been a big hit with the girls so far. While I was thinking about things, I noticed a pretty blonde girl dancing by the side of Robyn. The pair of them were in a group of girls who were all friends and every time I glanced over I noticed that the blonde girl seemed to be having a laugh and a joke with Robyn. They were obviously very close. It was then that I had an idea. Maybe I could find out from the blonde girl if Robyn fancied me too? It was a crazy plan, but after a few drinks it appealed to me because I was too shy to speak directly to Robyn.
While they were dancing I sidled over and managed to get the blonde girl’s attention. As I looked at her properly for the first time I could see that she had beautiful long hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore lots of makeup and was very stylishly turned out, but she was also very tipsy!
‘Hello, are you all right? What’s your name?’ I asked, smiling.
‘My name’s Lydia.’ She smiled back at me.
And that was how it happened. That was how I first met Lydia Bright, who became the great love of my life, as seen by millions of viewers on the first few series of The Only Way Is Essex. It all began because I’d fancied her mate, although, if the truth be known, I had started to become captivated by Lydia herself from the moment we spoke. She was seventeen when we met. But, for the time being, I continued to stumble on with my crazy plan to get fixed up with Robyn.
‘You’re called Arg, aren’t you? I know who you are,’ she said.
‘Could you do me a favour, Lydia?’ I asked. ‘Don’t tell her this, but I fancy your mate Robyn. Is there any chance you could get me in there, or find out whether she likes me?’
Lydia seemed to find my unusual approach hilarious.
‘Ha-ha! Yes, I’ll see what I can do,’ she replied.
We parted and went our separate ways around the dance floor. I carried on having a laugh with the boys but a little bit later my path crossed Lydia’s again.
‘I think Robyn just likes you as a friend,’ she said, as if trying to let me down a little bit gently.
I laughed it off and had a little joke with Lydia, who seemed quite drunk herself by now. I was disappointed by Robyn’s reaction, but I found my eyes increasingly drawn to Lydia every time I glanced over at her. She was always smiling and seemed so bubbly and full of life. She was dancing in a very alluring way, really throwing herself into it and bumping and grinding with all the right moves. I watched her and then, as my eyes panned around the room, I saw Robyn. She was with another boy and they were kissing.
Oh, bloody hell! I thought. Robyn’s found someone else.
Then, while I was watching Robyn and her new bloke, I noticed that Lydia had clocked me. We seemed to share a little smile about the humour of the situation with Robyn, and, from that moment on, I started to pay a lot more attention to Lydia on the dance floor. She really was a fantastic mover, while most of the girls around her couldn’t manage to string together more than two steps. After a while, I plucked up courage to go over to Lydia and we started dancing and having a bit of a conversation. I can’t remember exactly what we spoke about but I remember feeling comfortable in her company, and we were laughing and giggling a lot. The fact that I had tried to use her as a way of chatting up her friend seemed to have broken the ice between us in way that I hadn’t expected. We carried on dancing and I had this big smile on my face because he she kept making me laugh with all her funny little dance moves.
Never mind Robyn, I thought. I think I’m in with Lydia here!
The music was pounding and the drink was going to my head. I could see that Lydia was feeling the effects of all the drink, too. By now we were dancing much more closely. I remember thinking how attractive she looked as we moved towards each other. Then, before I knew what was happening, suddenly we were sharing this long, passionate kiss. We pulled away from each other and I was slightly surprised at what had happened. I felt quite happy with myself that this funny girl obviously liked me, and all my thoughts of Robyn were gone.
Then, a few moments later, Lydia did something that I thought was very strange. She grabbed her handbag and went inside it to pull out a bottle of perfume. I assumed that she was going to spray her body with it, but instead she opened up her mouth and squirted in the perfume! I don’t know whether she’d muddled up the perfume with a breath freshener or not, but it seemed very odd.
What the hell are you doing? I thought.
I don’t think she quite knew why she had done it, because by now she’d had a lot to drink, but it added to the mystery that I sensed about this unusual girl. She had agreed to find out about her mate’s feelings for me and she had then captivated my attention herself with her sexy dancing. She obviously had a fun sense of humour. By now I was caught in the moment and we carried on kissing, even though I could taste the perfume in her mouth. After a while we parted.
‘I’m going to find my friends now – but I’ll see you a bit later,’ I said awkwardly, wondering now where Mark and Jack were.
I didn’t see Lydia for the rest of the night but I kept giggling to myself about what had happened. I don’t know if she went home or what, but it was the last we saw of each other that evening. I left the polo event that night with the boys and went home feeling happy with myself, even though I wasn’t really expecting anything more to come of it. I didn’t know it then, but I was about to fall in love with the crazy girl with the perfume in her mouth.
A few days later I was on Facebook when a new message popped up. It was from Lydia.
It said something along the lines of, ‘Did I get with you last week?’
I giggled to myself. I was pretty sure that Lydia knew full well that we had kissed (she hadn’t been that drunk). The message was just an excuse to get in touch and I felt quite pleased to hear from her. I sent back a funny message confirming that we’d kissed but I didn’t pursue it much further. It wasn’t that I was playing it cool: it was just that I didn’t expect anything else to come out of it. Looking back, I realise she was sending me a clear message that she liked me, but I wasn’t very good at reading signals from girls at the time, which might help explain why I was still a virgin. We had a brief correspondence on Facebook but that was all.
It wasn’t until I was at Faces a few days later that the next thing happened between us. Thursdays were always good at the club because it was an over-eighteens night (as opposed to over-twenty-ones), so all of our younger crowd could easily get in. I was there one Thursday when I spotted Lydia on the dance floor with her friends. She was doing her sexy routine again and for the first time I realised just how much I really liked her.
Ah, you know what? I thought. I do fancy this girl.
I went over to talk to her and we were soon dancing together again. Inside Faces there was a main dance room, where they played house music, and there was also a little side area called Room 2, where they played R&B and hip-hop. As midnight arrived I found myself with Lydia in Room 2 and we were soon bumping and grinding sexily with each other. We had another little kiss and we agreed to exchange telephone numbers. After that, our secret liaisons in the hip-hop room became a regular thing. We’d text each other during the week along the lines of, ‘Meet you in the hip-hop room at midnight on Thursday!’
It became our funny little custom to meet for a dance and a kiss together at midnight where nobody could see us, before going off again into the main room with our respective friends. Whenever my phone pinged to tell me a text had arrived I found myself hoping that it was from Lydia. I had never kissed the same girl continually over a period of time, so this was new to me and I remember thinking how much I was starting to
enjoy our secret meetings. I never attempted to take her home or invite her on a date. It was just our special time at midnight, and I wasn’t sure what to do next.
I think it was just natural shyness on my part. I didn’t know whether Lydia would turn out to be just a girl I kissed occasionally in a club, rather than a relationship. I didn’t want to spoil things by making the wrong move. What I did realise was that I was starting to look forward to Thursdays more and more. I always made sure I went on to Faces on that night, and I did my utmost to try to link up with her. Even if there was an evening when she couldn’t make it I’d want to go there on the off chance, just in case she changed her plans and turned up.
After a few weeks, our meetings were interrupted, because Lydia had a holiday planned in Marbella with some girlfriends, and, for a week or two, I really missed seeing her. I was hoping I’d meet her when she got back but then something happened that caused a bit of a cloud in my mind. I was waiting for a train when I bumped into a friend of both me and Lydia and we got chatting. My heart sank as she told me that Lydia had kissed a boy while she was out in Marbella. (It’s impossible for somebody in our Essex crowd to keep a secret for long, and this was no exception.)
Of course, Lydia and I hadn’t even been on a proper date at this stage, so I had no real cause to feel aggrieved, but for some reason the news that she had kissed somebody else upset me a little. I was starting to hope that what we shared might lead somewhere, but, if she had kissed someone else, then maybe it wasn’t so special after all. I was disappointed. Maybe, I shouldn’t bother trying to take things further, I thought. Perhaps my initial feeling that it was nothing more than a few kisses with me in a nightclub had been correct. I think the girl who told me about Lydia’s holiday in Marbella must have realised that she’d inadvertently put her foot in it, because I then received a phone call from Lydia, who knew that I was upset.
