Siobhan's Sporking: Billy and me, Chapter 15

Alternative title: What Tom should have done when mcfly won a Brit. Or any award.

Yes, this is the chapter about the awards ceremony. And it's funny, I just read a book by Keris Stainton called 'Emma hearts LA' and there is a brief, brief bit with a celebrity, but the way she wrote getting papped was a lot more emotive and discriptive than this whole chapter. Which is ridiculous, because Keris hasn't lived this, Giovanna has. What in the actual hell?

Anyway, the chapter opens with Sophie and Billy in a Rolls Royce. Limo's are so passe. Sophie's angsting over the impact the award would have on Billy's career (because so many film roles speculate 'has won obscure awards' on criterion for actors). There's an odd description that I can't quite picture:

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, tilts his head backwards and sighs quickly, causing his lips to blow a raspberry.

I don't know what she's written. A sigh does not sound like a raspberry. Sighs don't often cause raspberries ... what is this?

Anyway, they're both so nervous, and ohmigosh, isn't that the funniest? And then they have a brilliant conversation of 'what's the worst that could happen?' which leads to Billy saying 'if I lose' on one of the instances and Sophie being all 'if!'

 

I love Hercules ... anyway, Billy stops panicking enough to say he won't sweat it once he's there, so I'm really confused about all the emoing.

Sophie then starts gushing about her makeover and how beautiful she feels and how flawless she looks with her makeup and how amazing it was she could stay home and how wonderful the beauticians (sorry, 'beauty therapists') were. She bitches out the spray tan she had, saying she was embarrassed that she had to wear her tiniest underwear in a tent in the bathroom and I fail to see what's so embarrassing. She also says she turned bright orange and had no faith that the colour would calm down like the beauticians Goddamn told her it would. She then bangs on about her hair and how it's amazing but 'sadly not the plait style Molly had suggested' which I thought she bitched out?

Sophie then starts giggling about how she's upgraded from working and getting covered in ingredients to being not much more than a socialite, and how her life is so much better now, then acts like she can laugh at herself by making out she's going to fall over and make an idiot of herself. Oh, as if, Mary Sue! And if that happened, you'd cry and act mortified, not laugh like a smug bitch like you are right now.

And ... oh my God, these two are smug, self-involved assholes.

... admiring his smart black tux and the way his hair is slicked up in the quiff style he had when we first met. He looks simply divine and every inch the Hollywood movie star.

Ugh, I get it, you bagged an A-lister. Well fucking done. You know, the one good thing about tearing this book apart in such detail is that I'm now inspired to write a celebrity story. It's on my futures pile. But I'm thinking more a story like if Britney Spears first husband could write, that sort of 'a celebrity shat on me for publicity' story. But different. You'll see, if it ever gets published.

Oh, and there's more vom-inducing sugary-sweet crap. You get to see it too, you lucky things:

I can't help but beam at him as I take in his gorgeousness. I know that my move to London hasn't been easy so far, but being here with him, on his special night, makes it all worthwhile. I wish I could bottle the feelings of love inside me and save them for a rainy day - to remind myself of their magnitude in those moments of doubt.

They're in love? Why do I have such difficulty in believing that? I see nothing between them that signifies love, past the meet-cute.

We get a description, very vaguely, of them arriving at the ceremony, and the main focus is on the crowd. Somehow, Sophie can see that there are about ten rows of people behind the partitions. She doesn't guess, she makes a statement of fact. She rambles on about the screaming, and the car creeping towards where they need to get out. Sophie wangsts that she wishes she saw this at home, rather than being part of it, out of nowhere, and then they're on the carpet.

Everyone starts screaming at Billy, and of course to Sophie the screams are way louder than they were before (although, apply logic here Sophie, the screams previously were heard through a car. You are now out of the car, and no longer have glass and metal between you and the noise acting as a muffler) and somehow two girls break out of the barrier to try to get to Billy. Really?

Then, we get my favourite line of the whole book.

Paul was right: it's loud and scary.

Did you see that? I'll put that again.

Paul was right.

PAUL WAS RIGHT.

Remember you said that, please, Sophie.

We get a few pages of the wonders of posing for photos and Billy tells Sophie what to do as the paps start calling out shit, and the emcee announces them (but Sophie has no class and doesn't realise that he is an emcee, he's 'a man in a suit who I'm guessing has to announce every person who arrives to avoid confusion' ... Goddammit, my son almost got us announced as 'Superman and his mummy' by the emcee at the last ladies night I went to, you can be announced as anything!) and then we get reminded about why the hell they're there.

I swear, in this chapter, I see 'best actor' and 'twisted drops' and that sort of shit about ten times.

Anyway, the cameramen start yelling out directions for how to stand, and then they start shouting ... I think it's meant to be abuse?

"Your bird scrubs up well, Billy!"
"Didn't you feel like wearing your apron tonight, darling?"
"Are you nervous?"

And a few jokes about coffee orders, and how Billy should give the bitch money, and I'm like; really, this is insulting? Nothing about her eyes being close together, or the make up being slapped on, or cellulite, or being a gold digger, or a bunny boiler ... I'm meaner than these guys. Billy's all smile, it pisses them off more, and Sophie has to spell this out because apparently she's fucking thick and we are too by proxy.

Billy then starts doing interviews, and Sophie describes herself as gormless so she is on fire, this chapter, when it comes to self-awareness. Billy apparently keeps talking about her, and pointing at her, so she smiles and waves, because that doesn't seem twattish at all. They then finally, finally sit down in their assigned seats, but oh, on the way absolutely everyone has stopped them to say good luck to Billy. Everyone loves Billy!

Sophie starts orgasming about the architecture while only describing the seats which ... it's about on par with this book. She doesn't bother to talk about the painting on the ceiling, or the cornices and intricate coving ... and that's all she really needs to describe. She calls the rest of the crowd 'glamorous' and I am really, really starting to fucking hate that word. There are other words! Ostentatious, glitzy, intimidating, stylish ... and they all give different aspects of this glamour so it works on a whole other level. Glamour/glamorous no longer holds any meaning for me, after going over this book. And then, out of nowhere, we get more gold:

"How's my loser face?" asks Billy, grabbing my attention as he tilts his head to the side in earnest whilst nodding and clapping with a knowing smile.

The first time I read, I didn't understand the description after the question, because I genuinely thought there was something like a pimple on his face. Then I realised it was badly phrased and him actually pulling his 'I'm a gracious loser' face. He wasn't calling himself a loserface. I wish he was, but no. Someone didn't think about the way she put words together here!

This is the segue for them to talk about how he should practice his winner's face, and does he have a speech? No, he really is just happy to be here. Gag. And Billy's like 'oh, in the very rare chance I will actually get the award, I'll wing it with a list of names Paul gave me' and I'm like *swoons* that Paul! Because he knew these two would be that brain dead and he knew who would be insulted if Billy forgot them. He's amazing!

But they haven't got time to love Paul like I do. Instead ...

"Have I told you how beautiful you look yet?" he asks, changing the subject.
"You might have mentioned it."
"Good," he says with a smile.
"Time for some finishing touches," I say, picking a strand of hair from his suit jacket and straightening his tie.

I mean, really?

Anyway, so then the ceremony starts and some fake-Bruce Forsyth is presenting. I fucking hate Bruce Forsyth, like I fucking hate Terry Wogan. So anyway, he starts warming up the crowd, and it's basically one big Billy-Buskin fest. We have lols about how Billy's not at the nickelodeon awards, so no gunge here Billy! And I'm trying not to

 

because there is nothing else in the opening, just how Billy wasn't meant to have a career, but now he's up for best actor thanks to Twisted Drops.

 

Then we get to rush through all the awards that don't matter, until we get to best actor. Because this story is honestly just about Sophie and Billy. The title did not lie. The previous winner of the award comes out and is even more self-centred than our protagonists, shoving his own award in people's faces and reading out the names in a really gay way. They're all made up actors, they're all made up films ... so how comes we could name Jude Law before?

Anyway, so I don't want to ruin the amazing twist for you, but - spoiler alert - Billy won. I know, right? He takes a minute to remember he has to go collect the award, and instead dry-humps Sophie as the cameras are pointing at them. She reminds him to go get the statue, and boy is he lucky she's there, huh? He goes, and acts like Paul gave him the names and he left them at home, but he'll thank everyone in private. Arrogant prick, your success came from a great director and producer, a casting agent with a good eye, amazing wardrobe and make up, great researchers, your acting teacher, your supportive parents, Paul, all the other actors on the film ... fuck you. Like you're going to see all those people again anytime soon?

Instead, Billy says there's only one person he wants to thank. He wants to thank Sophie. He calls her his better half which alarms me. She's a better award than this pathetic trinket. She completes him.

 

Then he leaves the podium, she cries, and he goes against stage directions (best actor, indeed) to go running up to her, pulling her into a hug and basically putting a middle finger up to everyone:

He scoops me up and embraces me, holding me tightly as though there is nowhere else he would rather be. We ignore the clapping and cheering around us and focus on this special moment together.

Which gives us the alternate title. When has anyone ever behaved like that at an awards ceremony? But I bet this is how Giovanna pictured it when Tom got his first award with the band, and they all went up, and Dougie was baffled and Danny made jokes and Tom thanked most of their actual colleagues and Harry filled in the gaps. And then they did some press backstage and finally returned to Giovanna afterwards. She concocted this then, I would put money on it.