It was all very intense and, before I knew it, I had ejaculated all over the wall. There I was, Richard Madeley, TV Times television personality of the year 1993, standing naked in a shower with excrement on the floor and semen on the walls. Judy was going to be angry. Really angry (like the time I went up the shop and forgot to buy her cigarettes). I decided the best thing was to own up and tell her the truth – that’s what Chris Tarrant would’ve done – but, I didn’t. Instead, I picked up my faeces, used it to write ‘sorry’ ‘x’ on the wall, and ran away. I figured it’d be easier to be absent from the house, let Judy’s methadone kick in; then return the wandering hero. Three days later I returned, fully clothed, clutching a bouquet of flowers and half a gram of heroin – Judy had never been able to resist my boyish charms. However, as I was standing at the front door knocking, I couldn’t sense any movement from inside. Judy’s door opening skills were usually impeccable – she had recently been working on some advanced techniques and had got the door answering time down to just 5.6 seconds. ‘Surely she hadn’t relinquished all the training we had been doing’, I asked myself loudly in a voice that I’d normally only reserve for judging single mothers. Just then, my Jamaican neighbour – and world superstar rapper – Shaggy, exited his house with two ‘whores’ and caught my gaze: “Mmmmm, she’s left yer man dem Richard Dickie Dick.”
She had indeed ‘left me man’. Judy had never left me before. I mean, let’s face it, leaving someone like me post-menopause poses a massive risk for her. (Now, I’m not saying I’m a ten, but a healthy nine and a half at least. The best Judy could hope for now, with that face, is probably a three. I don’t mean to sound cruel, it’s just scientific fact.)
Standing there, on my doorstep, a sadness washed over me. Had I really lost Judy forever? Shaggy, still standing on his doorstep, sucking on a Calippo ice pop he had just removed from one his girlfriend’s orifices, could sense the pain in me.
“Mmmmm, sweet like a milk, watch this”, my Jamaican rap superstar had now grabbed me by the shoulders, “Richard Madeley, we gonna get gem tings done make dat happy face come sunshine again hit me!”
Right then he shoved the Calippo into my mouth and a cosmic ray of hope hit me: Shaggy had a plan.
All characters and events in this piece – even those based on real people – are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.