I Will Marry George Clooney (By Christmas)

by Tracy Bloom

  ‘For fuck’s sake, ask a bloody question, Daz!’ shouted Bagsy. ‘Or you’ll be doing more than limping.’

  ‘I just need to make sure everybody understands. Let me repeat for one last time . . .’

  ‘Ask a bloody question or I’m going down the Feather’s quiz!’

  ‘Right, quote number one. Who said, “I see dead people”?’

  Josie stuck her elbow in Michelle’s side. ‘Mum did, in the graveyard earlier.’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ cried Michelle. ‘It was you who said there must be a ghost.’

  ‘You saw a ghost, Josie?’ exclaimed Kathleen. ‘Do you think it was Jane?’

  ‘No, no, forget it, Granny. Mum was just being stupid.’

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ pleaded Michelle.

  ‘The Sixth Sense,’ interjected Rob, recognising the need to halt the ghost talk. ‘That was the film, but I can’t remember the boy’s name. Was it Harry something?’

  ‘Haley Joel Osment,’ said Michelle.

  ‘Rob said it was Harry,’ challenged Kathleen.

  ‘No, she’s right,’ Rob said. ‘That’s his name.’

  ‘Look, Rob, if you think it’s Harry let’s stick with Harry,’ urged Kathleen.

  ‘No, seriously, Michelle is bang on.’

  ‘I’m definitely right, Mum,’ Michelle said.

  ‘Alright,’ sighed Kathleen, slumping back in her chair. ‘As long as Rob is sure.’

  Terrible feedback from the microphone heralded the arrival of the next question.

  ‘Quote number two,’ said Daz. ‘In what film, who said “Hasta la vista, baby”?’

  ‘Oooh,’ jumped in Rob. ‘That’ll be Arnie. Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator.’

  ‘Write it down, Josie,’ Kathleen ordered. ‘It’s such a good job you’re here,’ she gushed to Rob. ‘We wouldn’t have any idea otherwise.’

  ‘Well, I only know because I met him once, actually,’ he replied, looking a bit embarrassed. ‘The brewery sponsored the Superbowl and he was one of our guests. Every time his team scored he shouted “Hasta la vista, baby!” at the top of his voice. He was really funny. Had us all in stitches.’

  ‘Sounds like you had a good time living in America?’ said Michelle.

  ‘Well, there were upsides,’ Rob shrugged.

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Michelle muttered.

  ‘Are you sure it wasn’t Terminator 2?’ Ray interrupted, having been deep in thought. ‘I’m sure it was a question on one of them afternoon quizzes on the telly your mother likes. Everyone thinks it’s the first one but it was in fact the second one.’

  ‘Oh, you might be right,’ said Rob.

  ‘Oh, shut up, Ray,’ snapped Kathleen. ‘Rob is much more likely to know than you. He’s met the man, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘But he might be right, actually,’ said Rob.

  ‘Ignore him, Rob,’ she said in a conspiratorial whisper whilst looking straight at Ray. ‘He hasn’t a clue on this sort of stuff. He never gets anything right on them telly quizzes.’

  ‘Quote number three,’ Daz announced. ‘Now, I think this is quite a hard one but some of you here might remember it. Who said in what film, “What is tiramisu? Some woman is gonna ask me to do it to her, and I’m not gonna know what it is!”?’

  ‘Rob?’ said Kathleen immediately.

  ‘No idea on this one,’ he replied, shaking his head and taking a big gulp from his pint.

  Kathleen looked at Michelle. ‘You must know this one. It’s food related.’

  ‘For the last time, Mum, I’m not fat!’

  ‘I never said you were, but you love your cooking. Surely you can remember when tiramisu was discussed in a film.’

  ‘Funnily enough, Mum, my ears don’t prick up every time dessert gets a mention.’

  ‘So where do you cook these days?’ asked Rob. ‘I can still remember that amazing pork dish you used to do at the Rose & Crown. Every time I came in I’d have to have it. Just couldn’t resist it.’

  ‘I don’t cook,’ replied Michelle. ‘I work in a chicken factory.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Rob, clearly taken aback. There was an awkward pause. ‘What happened?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘Responsibilities.’ Michelle shrugged and looked away. This was not the conversation she wanted to be having with Rob, in front of Josie, having not seen him in over sixteen years, in the middle of a stupid pub quiz.

  ‘Quote number four,’ Daz ploughed on. ‘Listen carefully. This is really hard. “Anybody who ever built an empire, or changed the world, sat where you are now. And it’s because they sat there that they were able to do it.”’

  Silence around the table.

  ‘So no-one knows this one?’ asked Kathleen. ‘Is it a new film? Would it be something you might have seen,

  Josie?’

  ‘No way,’ Josie said. ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘George Clooney, Up in the Air,’ muttered Michelle.

  ‘Oh God, not George Clooney,’ groaned Josie, putting her head in her hands.

  ‘Isn’t it George Clooney?’ asked Kathleen. ‘Who do you think it is then, Josie?’

  ‘No, Gran, it must be George Clooney if Mum says it is.’

  ‘Why did you say it wasn’t, then?’

  ‘I didn’t. I was just groaning because it’s George Clooney.’

  ‘It’s nothing, Mum,’ Michelle said quickly. ‘Just write it down, Josie. Daz will be asking the next question soon.’

  ‘But it might not be George Clooney,’ Kathleen protested. ‘Can’t you see that Josie isn’t happy with that answer?’

  ‘No, Gran, it’s the right answer,’ said Josie. ‘I was just groaning because Mum’s making an idiot of herself over him.’

  ‘Over who?’

  ‘George Clooney.’

  Rob looked over to Michelle, clearly still confused by the news that she hadn’t become the excellent chef she’d been destined to be, and now utterly bewildered as to why George Clooney was causing so much angst around the table.

  Fortunately, Daz broke in over the screaming PA system. ‘And so here we have number five, the last question in this round.’ Finally Daz has his uses, thought Michelle.

  ‘Number five?’ shrieked Bagsy. ‘But there’s always ten questions a round. What you playing at, having just five questions?’

  ‘Two points per question, Bagsy. One for the film and one for the actor. Two times five is ten points, which you may have worked out if you’d ever bothered to go to school.’

  ‘Are you calling me stupid?’ said Bagsy, rising from his chair and squaring his shoulders.

  ‘Calm down, lads,’ said Rob, getting up to stand between them. ‘It’s just a quiz, eh?’

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Daz, looking more upset at Rob’s interjection than Bagsy’s challenge. ‘I can handle myself.’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’ Rob sat down again. ‘So let’s hear this last quote, shall we?’ He picked up the pen expectantly.

  ‘Of course,’ said Daz. ‘That’s what I’m here for. So, the final quote for this round is “Way to go, Paula! Way to go!”’

  ‘An Officer and a Gentleman,’ shrieked Michelle, forgetting her discomfort with how her evening was panning out. ‘Oh my God. Best film ever.’

  ‘Never heard of it,’ said Josie.

  ‘Oh Josie, you have to watch it,’ sighed Michelle. ‘Richard Gere is in the navy and he has this thing with Debra Winger, who’s Paula, who works in a factory near where he’s training. Then he leaves and she thinks he’s deserting her, until right at the end when she’s in the factory and Richard strides in in his pristine white navy uniform and picks her up and carries her away from the factory, in his arms . . . and great music is playing . . . and she’s freeeee.’

  Everyone stared at Michelle as she misted over and gazed into the distance.

  ‘Are you sure that’s the right answer?’ asked Kathleen. ‘What do you think, Rob?’

  Rob closed his gaping mouth. ‘I think Michelle obviously kn
ows what she’s talking about,’ he said.

  ‘It’s definitely An Officer and a Gentleman,’ Michelle repeated. ‘It’s one of my favourite films; it has the best happy ending in a film ever. He rescues her from the factory and she escapes to a better life!’

  Everyone stared back at her blankly.

  ‘I’m going to go and ring Sean,’ said Josie, sliding off her stool and disappearing out the side door of the pub.

  ‘Fancy some pork scratchings, Michelle?’ asked her dad. ‘They sell the ones you like in here. Go on, I’ll treat you.’

  ‘She escapes,’ she muttered under her breath, watching Josie leave the room to talk to her waste-of-space boyfriend and Kathleen gaze into Rob’s eyes like he was her long-lost son. She got out her phone and sent a text to Gina. It was time to kick it up a gear.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘So I got onto it as soon as I got your text,’ said Gina. ‘Apparently he’s currently on set in Japan filming his latest movie.’

  ‘Japan?’

  ‘Yep, Japan,’ Gina nodded. ‘I know, it couldn’t be worse. You can’t stand sushi, can you? Raw fish makes you chuck.’

  ‘That is a concern, yes,’ said Michelle. ‘That and the fact that it’s on the other side of the world. What’s the film?’

  ‘Couldn’t really find any details, but it looks like some kind of war movie. I found a shot of him on one gossip website, on set, in a military uniform.’

  ‘George Clooney in uniform?’

  ‘Looked like it.’

  ‘Can you send me the link?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘So I guess the good news is he’s making a movie,’ said Michelle. ‘That means at some point he’ll be out promoting it. You know, doing premieres, that sort of thing. That’s what might bring him to the UK.’

  ‘You read my mind,’ said Gina. ‘He’s actually due in London in November for a premiere of a film that he’s already finished.’

  ‘Really! But Gina, that’s perfect! How did you find that out?’

  ‘I called Cousin Jack. He sends his regards, by the way. Asked me to pass on the number of his shrink. Said he thought you might need it.’

  ‘I don’t need the number of his shrink.’

  ‘He was quite insistent.’

  ‘Do we have to have this conversation again? He’s a depressed, impotent drug addict who is in no position to have an opinion on my mental health.’

  Gina was starting to look distressed. ‘But he made me promise that I wouldn’t tell you about George being in London unless you agreed to see his shrink.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Well, it might have something to do with the fact that I told him about how you’re planning to marry George Clooney in order to prevent your daughter shagging her boyfriend. He said he’s worried about your delusional and dysfunctional behaviour, and as long as you see a shrink then he’ll marry you to stop Josie shagging Sean.’

  ‘I repeat, he’s a depressed, impotent drug addict, and I am merely desperate.’

  ‘That’s what I told him.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘He said you can call him any time, day or night.’

  ‘Great. Now tell me how on earth he knows George Clooney is coming to London.’

  ‘He has film industry connections.’

  ‘Cousin Jack has?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How, exactly?’

  ‘His ex-wife works the box office at the multiplex in Derby.’

  Michelle raised her eyebrows at Gina as she often did.

  ‘No, wait, listen,’ Gina said. ‘So he called her to pull in a favour, as he puts it. Seeing as she left him and all that. He asked if she could find out what film premieres were taking place this year in London, if she knew anyone in the company that might know. She refused to start with, apparently, until Jack threatened to slash the tyres on her boyfriend’s Mondeo again. Anyway, somehow she came up with the goods, and bingo. Turns out George’s latest film premieres in Leicester Square in November.’

  ‘Well I’ll be damned,’ said Michelle. ‘A big fat thank you to Cousin Jack’s ex-wife, I think.’

  ‘And Cousin Jack?’

  ‘Of course,’ Michelle nodded. ‘This is brilliant, Gina. We know when George is going to be in the country so now all we have to do is get to him.’ She stopped swinging, putting her feet down hard on the tarmac. Gina and Michelle always did their best thinking on the swings at the park at the top end of town. They’d gone there straight from work for a pow-wow following Michelle’s urgent text to start gathering intelligence on George Clooney’s whereabouts. Fortunately, there was a light drizzle which had kept small children at home watching CBeebies.

  ‘However,’ Michelle admitted, ‘even if he’s in London our chances of getting to him are pretty slim.’

  ‘As much as I wish you were wrong,’ said Gina, ‘I think that actually you’re right.’

  ‘So I’ve been thinking,’ said Michelle. ‘There’s only one thing for it. Whilst he’s in the country we just have to get him to come to me.’

  ‘Genius!’ cried Gina.

  Michelle continued her swinging. No-one spoke until Gina slammed her feet down, bringing her to an abrupt stop.

  ‘How the bloody hell are you going to do that, you idiot? What’s going to make a Hollywood megastar just rock up in Malton and pop into yours and ask you out for a swift half?’

  Michelle stopped and turned to face her friend. ‘I’ve got one word for you, Gina,’ she said. ‘Charity.’

  Gina looked around, confused. She must be missing something.

  ‘And?’ she asked, when nothing appeared to enlighten her further.

  ‘Charity. That might be what brings George to me.’ Michelle started to swing again.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, stop swinging. I can’t concentrate with you looking like a demented hamster.’ Michelle stopped but didn’t elaborate.

  ‘So, what?’ asked Gina, getting frustrated. ‘You’re gonna get one of those collection tins and hang around hoping he happens to walk past and put his millions into it?

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You’re gonna set yourself up as a charity – the “I Will Marry George Clooney” charity – and ask people to give you money until you’re so rich you can have, like, a ton of plastic surgery and a hair transplant and pin your ears back a bit until you’re irresistible to him?’

  ‘Why would I want to pin my ears back?’

  ‘Because they do stick out a bit.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’

  ‘They do.’

  ‘You never told me that before.’

  Gina shrugged.

  Michelle strutted off to sit on the roundabout. Gina followed.

  ‘So that’s it, is it?’ Gina pressed. ‘You’re going to ask for donations in order to get rich enough to marry George Clooney?’

  ‘There are many causes more worthy of donations than me.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t like to say,’ said Gina.

  ‘Look, you know George,’ said Michelle. ‘He’s clearly the kindest, most generous, most amazing man on the planet, right?

  ‘I think you are a touch biased.’

  ‘Well, I reckon he’s bound to use his celebrity status to help those in need, isn’t he? He’s just that kind of guy. He probably works for loads of charities, helping them raise money for people who have nothing.’

  ‘You mean, like when they do those phone-ins,’ said Gina, ‘and they line the celebrities up on a switchboard and tell you to donate money, because if you do, George Clooney might pick up the phone?’

  ‘That’s one thing he may be doing, I guess,’ said Michelle.

  ‘Are you going to ring up every charity and hope he picks up the phone at one of them?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Phew. Because I was going to have to break it to you that would be a stupid plan.’

  ‘I know it would, Gina.’

  ‘They’re fake phones, you know, when y
ou see it all set up on telly. There’s no way Gwyneth Paltrow knows how to process a credit card. No way. They’re all just acting, pretending to talk to people whilst real people take the proper calls.’

  ‘Glad you’ve cleared that up, Gina.’

  ‘Didn’t want you to be wasting your time, that’s all.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Michelle. ‘Now, if you’ll let me try and explain. I reckon if we can find a charity close enough to George’s heart, and then go all out to raise money for it, then he might just come to collect the money. What do you reckon?’

  ‘So, you’re actually gonna do something for “chariddy”?’ said Gina, giving it a bit of jazz hands.

  ‘You got any better ideas? I don’t see myself getting within a hundred miles of him otherwise.’

  ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Gina conceded. ‘People are suffering, Michelle, and your motivation to use that in order to shag a celebrity is truly inspirational.’

  ‘Beautifully put, Gina. But no, I was more thinking that it’s a win-win situation. Even if I don’t get to marry George Clooney, at least I might have actually done something good, maybe helped someone worse off than me. I kind of like that idea.’

  ‘Cats,’ said Gina.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I bet he’s a cat lover. You could raise money for homeless cats.’

  ‘I hate cats,’ stated Michelle.

  ‘I know, just saying.’ Gina shrugged.

  They fell silent, spinning around on the roundabout, both wondering what George might care enough about to raise money for.

  ‘Oi, you fat fuckers!’ came a loud shout from what was clearly a young person’s mouth. ‘That roundabout is for us kids, not you freakin’ geriatrics.’

  A four-foot-high boy came out of nowhere and proceeded to grab hold of the rails on the roundabout and spin it as fast as he could.

  ‘Rio Bentall, you just stop that or I’ll tell your mother!’ screamed Gina, hanging on for dear life.

  ‘Fuck off,’ came the reply. ‘You’re trespassing, you. I’ll tell the police.’