So I apologised profusely and said I’d go and have a lie-down.
He told me not to worry, and said he’d come by my hut again later to help me look. Bless him. He kept saying, ‘I really want you to find it! I don’t want you to think I’m some thief, or have my ass thrown in jail!’
I’m so confused now. I don’t want to think he did it but I’m about to go and cancel my cards anyway. What do you think? Did he do it? Use the voting buttons to the right of the blog! Also, you can watch the song I wrote about the whole sorry ordeal here.
Happy Chrimbo from your idiot slapper friend,
B xxx
* Yep… Travel bore bingo-tastic.
Holly.Braithwaite@TotesamazeProductions.com to
Jeremy.Philpott@TotesamazeProductions.com
Subject: Same Same
Hey Jeremy,
Not sure if you’ve seen the news about Stephen Fry? Has the show responded officially yet?
Either way I’ve just had an idea for another show. What about a reality thing about backpacking? There’s not been one of them, has there? Lots of funny stuff happens out on the road. Gap Yahs, Trustafarians, pissheads ‘finding themselves…’ all that jazz… It could be set in Goa, or even Thailand. It could be about how travel’s never quite as different as you think it’s going to be and playing with Alain de Botton’s premise that travel is always better in your head. What do you think? Oh, and I’m calling it ‘Same Same’ (as in, But Different).
One vital piece of information – it could be starring your favourite person – Bella Allen. She’s living out in Goa at the moment, working as a singer and barmaid. Have a look at her @LadyGoa blog here, her pics and a bunch of her songs she’s been writing out there. If any of that appeals I could put you in touch – I think we both know she’d jump at the chance!
Holly
Jeremy.Philpott@TotesamazeProductions.com to
Holly.Braithwaite@TotesamazeProductions.com
Subject: Re: Same Same
Think it might be too much of a tall order production-wise. Not without Channel 4 or Sky Atlantic’s budgets. But if we can strip it right back, keep it a small Reality unit then we might be on to something.
Lose the de Botton stuff. Still too cerebral.
I do like it though. I’ll drop Bella a line. Could work nicely as the next project after Madhouse. On that – don’t worry about Mr Fry. No idea who that Armando character is that he keeps banging on about! Either way it matters not – our ratings are sky-high now – he did us a favour!
Happiness?
J.
32. Out With the Old
By the time Christmas rolled around, the snow had covered London in a thick blanket of at least fifteen togs. To those outside the duvet, the general consensus was that ‘London was closed due to adverse weather conditions.’ Holly had pretty much given up trying to get anywhere, and had taken to hibernating at her parent’s house in the Midlands. The amount of layering up required, coupled with the extra travel time, had turned even the most outgoing of them into hermits. But eventually, from the three corners of Britain – Scotland, Sutton Coldfield and Gerrards Cross – BUC was reunited again. Come New Year’s Eve, Holly was welcoming the others back into the flat with open arms and mulled wine. Along with Bella, who was sat on the coffee table in Harry’s laptop, appearing live via Skype. She was on her fifth Tiger beer, it having already turned midnight where she was. But as soon as they had all taken up their respective seats in the lounge and lined up their alcoholic offerings on the table, Olivia began to complain of being feverish. ‘Sorry people. I’m only going to come out for one. I’ve got the vilest of colds at the moment.’
‘Oh that’s a shame. It’s NEW YEAR’S EVE!’ Harry said, as though it was the millennium and Elvis himself was going to be in attendance.
‘Yeah, come on Liv, don’t be lame!’ Bella added from Goa.
‘Sorry. But I can’t help it if I feel rough,’ she said, heading to the bathroom again.
‘What’s up with her?’ Bella asked, while Harry poured out some tequila.
‘She’s got some kind of a cold,’ Holly said. ‘Says she’s suffering with “exhaustion”. You know, like the slebs do.’
‘And she tells Bella off for being a drama queen!’ Harry said.
‘Oi! I am here you know!’ Bella said.
‘Ha! We’re only kidding, B. But yes, we should give Liv a bit of a break,’ Holly said, ‘she’s probably still getting Jonny out of her system. Again.’
‘Oh, the old Break-up Flu,’ Harry said.
‘She’s due a bout of that,’ Holly agreed.
Olivia re-emerged from the toilet, looking more alive, owing to a smattering of bronzer on her cheeks. ‘Well, that was NOT regular.’
‘Poor you. Do you think you can manage to stay out for more than one?’ Holly asked.
‘I’ll try and manage ’til midnight, if only to see the back of this godforsaken year.’
‘I’ll drink to that!’ Holly said. ‘Adios, Year of Cack!’
‘And Hello, Year of Cock!’ Olivia added, a glint in her eye.
After applying the necessary six layers, they kissed Bella goodbye and headed out. Everyone seemed to know a friend’s house party to add to the mix, and they did their best to drop in on all of them. The final stop was ‘Feeling Gloomy’, a pub night in Kentish Town that Harry’s workmates had suggested. It prided itself on playing music that was both cheerfully upbeat and yet melancholic in sentiment, which seemed to match their mood perfectly as they danced away; sometimes on tables, sometimes on the crowded and sticky dance floor.
At ten o’clock, just as she was coming up, Holly heard the familiar bittersweet tones of The Cure’s ‘In Between Days’ kick in, and felt an undeniable urge to do one of two things. One, curl up into a foetal ball on the floor, begin rocking and sobbing for all that was lost. Or two, jump down from the table and onto the dance floor, dragging her friends in tow. Once out there, release the song from quarantine – the song she and Lawrence had their first kiss to – and dance like no one was watching her.
She plumped for the second, and it became her new favourite memory. As she bounced up and down alongside two of her best friends and they hollered, ‘This is a Reclaim’ in unison across the dance floor, she forgot all about it being New Year’s Eve. Never mind ‘Auld Lang Syne’; to her this Reclaim was better than any new beginning. Shimmying in time with the chorus and screaming, ‘Without, without, without YOU!’ she locked arms with Harry and felt more and more like she was flying. Hooray, everything was going to be alright! Robert Smith was hers again and she was finally, finally moving on.
‘It’s all going to be OK, man!’ she screamed in Harry’s ear, picking up speed with every word. ‘There’s so much exciting stuff going on and I feel driven, like really driven you know, to make the most of these last two years of my twenties! Bring on next year! I’m gonna finally try and get myself a better quality show to work on, somehow!’ She stopped for a much-needed breath, and to take a sip from her bottle of water.
‘Yeah! That’s the stuff! Get in!’ cried Harry, his jaw moving from side to side, tiny warts of sweat forming on his forehead.
Olivia smiled and nodded as though she totally agreed, but that she wasn’t on quite as many Class-A’s as them. She smiled and took a long glug on her bottle of water.
‘YEAH! The Break-up Club! I am in love!’ Holly squealed, high as a Red Arrow doing a loop-de-loop.
‘With us!’ Harry yelled, completing her sentence for her while she grinned inanely.
‘Yes! AND now that we’re almost in a new year, I can say that Lawrence belonged to another year. He lives there now, IN THE PAST! Wooohooo!’ Holly looked up and saw Olivia coming over, also drenched in sweat from dancing.
‘Yay, I’m so glad you stayed out Liv!’ she said, engulfing her in hugs before shouting ‘I love you!’ over the music.
‘Yeah!’ she said, then adding, ‘It’s really hot in here, isn’t it?’<
br />
‘Um, not so much – do you want to go and get some air? I’ll come with you?’
‘Yeah, let’s go for a fag.’
‘You okay?’ Holly said, giving her a hug as they walked out to the balcony. ‘Here, you’re shaking. Have my coat.’
‘Thanks,’ Olivia said, tightening it around her and lighting their cigarettes.
‘Maybe drink some more water?’ Holly hoped her face was managing to exhibit concern despite having recently relinquished all control of her facial muscles in favour of gurning for Britain. ‘Are you having a bad reaction?’
‘Maybe. I’ve only done a couple of bombs, I guess my body’s not used to it,’ Olivia said, taking a seat on a nearby chair, still shivering. She emptied the rest of her bottle of water into her mouth. Then she inhaled deeply on her cigarette as though that might warm her up. Instead, it set her off into a gargantuan coughing fit.
‘Jeez, maybe lay off those? You sound like an old man!’ Holly said as Harry came out to join them. He grabbed the cigarette and took a sneaky drag on it.
Olivia finally stopped hacking and frowned. ‘Yeah. I’m going to take up vaping soon, that’s probably a much healthier idea.’
‘Me too,’ Harry said, giving Olivia the rest of his water bottle, and starting to rub the back of her neck in an attempt at a relaxing massage. He stopped after a few seconds and looked at Holly, his eyes widening. ‘Liv, you’re shaking quite a lot now. Have my coat,’ he said, wrapping a third coat around her so she now resembled the Michelin Man on an Arctic expedition.
‘Actually, I’m still really cold. I might go back inside,’ she said, beginning to sound breathless.
She stood up, but then sat back down again. ‘Why is the world spinning so much? Can you make it stop spinning please?’ She broke into another coughing fit. ‘I wish to god I’d not taken any now. This is really not fun Harry.’
‘Shit, Liv. I think we should take you home,’ Harry said.
Holly felt a sudden surge of paranoia. What if Liv was having a terrible reaction to the MDMA? What if they were all duff ones? Were they all going to collapse in a minute? Was this a mass cull of the broken-hearted, she wondered, before mentally berating herself for being so self-absorbed. ‘Yes. Come on, let’s take you home.’
They headed through the club and out to the street, Olivia leaning on Harry’s arm for support.
‘Shit. There are no shitting cabs,’ Holly said what felt like an hour later.
‘Of course there’re no shitting cabs,’ snapped Harry. ‘It’s New Year’s Fucking Eve.’
‘You guys stay out, enjoy your night,’ burped Olivia. ‘Especially you Holly, I’ve not seen you on this good form in ages; don’t let me stop you please.’
‘No, we’re coming home with you, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Yeah,’ Harry said, ‘you’re dripping with sweat, and it’s zero degrees. No way we’re letting you go home on your own.’
Olivia smiled at them as her eyes closed and she slid towards the ground. They caught her just in time, and leaned her on each of their shoulders like a stoned rag doll.
‘OK, this is silly, we have to do something,’ Holly said, taking out her phone.
‘Call a cab, good idea,’ Harry said.
‘No, fuck that, there won’t be any. I’m ringing NHS Direct.’ Then she whispered to Harry, ‘Do we ply her with water? Or will that make it worse? Remember Leah Betts from the nineties? She died from drinking too much water after a pill. We’re walking a fucking tightrope at this point.’
‘No, she’s been dancing loads. It’s important she drinks enough. Let’s give her the rest of your bottle, too.’
They gave Olivia a sip more water, and a little more colour returned to her cheeks.
As a cab with its light on came around the corner, Harry jumped up and waved his arms about until it pulled up. He opened the door, and helped Olivia into the back seat.
‘Thanks guys. Happy New Year!’ she said, ‘I feel a bit better now. You two stay out, enjoy the rest of the night. I’ve got this, really! As they say in the American sitcoms…’ she said, breaking into laughter, then another shivering fit. ‘Have a great night,’ she said, her voice getting hoarser.
‘You in or out?’ said the cabbie, looking at the others as he revved the engine.
‘They’re out,’ Olivia said. ‘Can I go to London Fields, please.’
‘Not on your tod you can’t,’ grunted the cabbie. ‘I’m not having her chucking up all over my seats. At least one of you has to look after her.’
‘That settles it,’ Harry said, climbing in. He sat next to Olivia, squeezing her hand, while Holly sat facing them.
As the taxi headed up Kentish Town Road, the countdowns were beginning all around them. ‘Ten, nine, eight.’ As they sat in traffic in the slush-lined streets, the bursts of cheers and Auld-Lang-Syn-ing escalated while Olivia’s condition deteriorated.
‘Hello, yes. Thank you for answering!’ Holly said into her phone ‘I’m calling about one of my friends… She’s taken a few bombs of MDMA… about two hours ago… but she’s shaking and her temperature is really, really high. We might be overreacting but,’ she said, turning round, ‘she’s shaking uncontrollably now, and she had a small cough earlier that’s turned into a crazy coughing fit.’
Harry put his hand on Olivia’s forehead. ‘Tell them her temperature is off the charts. I don’t have a thermometer but I’d say she’s pushing forty here. My hand is soaking wet. That’s bad, isn’t it? Ask them what we should do?’
‘Shh! Hang on! I can’t hear what they’re saying.’
‘Fuck this, I think we should go to hospital.’
Holly got off the phone and turned to the driver. ‘OK, they just said to go straight to A & E. Can you take us to the nearest hospital?’
He turned the car around with a screech and headed back towards Euston. As they drove on, Holly’s pulse began to race at a rate faster than when she was a speed-freak in her mid-teens. Eventually the green-tinted windows of the University College Hospital tower loomed ahead of them. The cab pulled up and she jumped out, leaving Harry with an unconscious Olivia as she raced through the revolving doors.
‘Our friend’s outside in a cab, she’s in a really bad way,’ she said to the triage nurse standing in front of reception, ‘full disclosure: she’s had a third of a gram of MDMA…I’m sorry.’ Then she watched as two paramedics pushed a wheelchair out to the taxi.
‘What time did she take it?’ the nurse asked.
Holly answered to the best of her ability. Meanwhile in her head she was walking an emotional tightrope between guilt for having less right to be there than everyone else, and fear that they’d be arrested for possession any minute.
‘Have a seat, someone will be with you when they can,’ said the nurse as Olivia was wheeled inside, but all Holly heard was, ‘you and your friends are an abscess on the economy, recklessly draining the resources that are paid for by the hard-working taxpayer.’
‘Thanks,’ she said as they sat down in a noisy waiting room filled with a heady cocktail of shame, graphic-looking injuries, and magazines from 1998.
Sometime later she and Harry were still slumped in a dark corner, drinking bad machine coffee and Googling ‘symptoms of adverse reactions to MDMA’, on their phones because they didn’t know what else to do. The minutes went by like hours, but none brought news.
Just as Holly was attempting to make herself care about an article on celebrity cellulite in a trashy magazine, a sombre-faced female doctor came up to them and asked them to step to one side.
‘Is our friend OK?’ Holly said. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with her?’
‘I’m afraid we don’t know yet. She has a very high temperature and she’s having trouble breathing, which we’re trying to control with CPAP.’
‘C-what?’ Harry said.
‘CPAP. It’s a respiratory mask which forces air into the system It’s not the most pleasant thing in the world.’
&n
bsp; ‘Is this all because of what she’s taken?’ Harry asked. ‘I feel terrible…she would never have taken any drugs if it wasn’t for me.’
‘We never normally take the stuff. It was just a one-off!’ said Holly, as though that could possibly make any difference now.
The doctor shook her head dismissively. ‘The effects of that should have worn off long ago.’ Harry allowed himself a brief exhale.
‘Has she got swelling of the brain from drinking too much water?’ Holly said, her eyes stinging with tears. ‘Is this all our fault for giving her too many bottles of water?’
‘Holly, stop it,’ Harry said. ‘I think you’ve got early-onset paranoia.’
‘It is too early to say what’s exactly wrong with her at this time,’ said the doctor.
‘Can we see her yet?’ said Holly.
The doctor shook her head. ‘She’s been taken into quarantine for now. The infectious diseases doctor is coming to see her next. We can’t rule anything out at the moment. You’re better off coming back tomorrow morning, when we’ll have moved her to ICU. We’ll know more then.’
‘Quarantine? Infectious diseases?’ Holly said, but the doctor was gone.
*
‘Send for the men in white coats,’ by @LadyGoa
OK, I literally don’t know how to say this. I’ve found my ARSING money belt. It was hanging next to the loo all along, draped over some pipes, its sickly grey colour having camouflaged itself in the sickly grey pipes. I can only assume I must have taken it off when I first went to the loo after the party, but I was so twatted I didn’t remember.
Break-Up Club Page 33
