This is a piece I wrote for an exercise for the writing group I attend, which I made reference to in a previous post (see here). The idea was to write a piece that is from the perspective of someone you HATE – be it someone you personally know, or a famous person. I opted for the loathsome specimen known as Joey Essex, however through writing it was interesting to see how I found myself sympathising with him in some ways! Anyway, dear followers and fellow writers viewing this post – I would like you to give this exercise a try yourself too! (linking back to this post, if you don’t mind ;-)) Will be interesting to see what others come up with. Anyway, without further ado, I present to you:
The Proper Reem Journal of Joey Essex
Some people reckon I’m a bit thick. And, y’know, I guess I know where they’re coming from and that. I ain’t the sharpest knife in the shed. That’s the saying, innit? Anyway yeah, I’m not too bright. It ain’t really my fault though, at the end of the day. My mum died when I was only a little fella, so she didn’t get to teach me stuff about the world and facts and all that. Like, every time I go on one of these game shows or whatever they’re always laughing at me and taking the piss ‘cos I don’t know stuff. How am I supposed to know how many sides a square has? Or that Danish means they’re from Denmark like? It’s all stuff that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things innit? I mean, I think I done pretty all right for myself anyway. I get to drop them beats at the Sugar Hut every night, and get to see all the peeps there dancing and having a well reem time and that. Who needs to know all these facts and shit? I just enjoy this little life I’ve got and try not to think all that much. Gives me a right bangin’ headache every time I try doing that, I tell ya.
And I was on that programme for a little bit, wun’t I? That one that had my last name in the title, like. Proper clever how they did that innit? And it was all like, real and that. Like there wasn’t a script or nothin’, like I think they said we were saying ‘unscripted lines but in a structured way’ or something. I ain’t got the foggiest what they meant by that, I was just being myself and that innit? And then I was in that jungle for all them weeks, on that show, I think it was called ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Out of my Way’ or something like that. They gave me a hard time on that and all, just ‘cos I don’t know how to tell the time. Don’t really matter when I can just ask someone, innit? Never was able to get my head round how the big hand and little hand work on one of them clocks, I tell ya. I still wear this watch though, ‘cos it looks well reem. And that’s all that matters I reckon.
So yeah, people give me a lot of stick for not knowing stuff like that. That’s why I was a bit apprehensive (cor look at that I used a big word) about going on this 8 out of 10 Cats Does Countdown thing. I didn’t really get what they was asking me – I thought they was like two different shows in’t they? Was they asking me to be on both? Nah, turned out it was the people from that cat show but they was on Countdown like, and it was funnier and stuff. I remember me nan always watched Countdown at home, there’s always these proper braniacs on it that can make all these words appear like magic, and they were well good at doing maths as well. It looked well hard to me, and proper boring too, ‘specially with that old bloke that Alan Sugar hangs out with presenting it. Mind you, that bird that does the numbers is a bit of alright, ain’t she? Right nice bit of prawn cocktail, that one (N.B. According to Joey’s personal dictionary, as featured in his book Being Reem, ‘prawn cocktail’ refers to an especially ‘fit’ young woman).
So I wasn’t sure about going on it, as I was scared of looking proper stupid. But they told me it would be ‘a bit of a laugh’, and that it weren’t that boring bloke presenting it, it was that Jimmy Carr guy from 8 out of 10 Cats doing it. So that sounded alright, I find him proper funny when he’s on the telly (though I don’t understand all the jokes). So I thought, what the hell, I’ll give it a bash. So here I am now, sitting in the Dictionary Corner with that Susie bird. She ain’t as fit as Rachel the maths bird though, cor, might give her my phone number after the show if she likes numbers that much, innit? Just glad I’m not actually playing the game, though. I’m a good counter, but I ain’t great at adding all the numbers together. All them letters would just give me a headache as well. I ain’t the best speller and I ain’t good at writing things down neither, that’s why I got my agent to write all this down for me. But yeah, anyways. I just have to sit in this corner and look up words and that, and then say some stuff when that Jimmy bloke talks to me. I tell ya, he’s proper starting to get right on my wick though. He’s funny on telly but bit of a wanker in person y’know? He’s got this proper smug look on his face all the time, like he thinks he’s better than everyone. He keeps asking me all these questions and taking the piss and that. At least I think he’s taking the piss, it’s a bit hard to tell sometimes. A lot of it just goes in one ear and out the other, to be honest, but I reckon ‘cos everyone else is laughing after certain things he says, that means he’s probably taking the piss like. I can see that stupid look on his face right now, I’ve just told him some word from the dictionary and he’s looking at me like I’m from bloody Mars or something.
“I’m sorry, what?” he’s asking me.
I try and read the word as best I can, but it’s probably still wrong.
“La-ta-rool” I say to him proper concentrating like.
“You mean lateral?” he sneers like he’s talking to a right thicko.
And then there’s that laughter again. ‘Cos the stupid Essex boy can’t say a word properly. Ha-bloody-ha right? I just try and read them how they look on the page, like. I don’t know any of that proper pronouncin’ stuff. Maybe them putting me in the bloody Dictionary Corner is their idea of a joke, of taking the piss, like? Nah, they wouldn’t be that mean would they? But whatever, I’m so tired of sitting in on these things with all these comedian blokes pulling faces at me and banging on about all this stuff that I don’t know about. They keep wheeling me out for these things, and I’m starting to reckon it’s just to make me look stupid and so everyone points at me and says things like, ‘Cor, look how thick he is? How can he not know something as simple as that?’ And y’know what? Maybe next time I’ll just turn round and say ‘Nah, you’re alright mate’. Maybe if they asked me to do some more of those programmes where I actually go out and learn stuff then I might do them again, cos I’m not just sitting there being taken the piss out of.
But I’ll tell you what, in the meantime I’m quite happy to keep rocking the decks at the Sugar Hut and putting my name on all these hair products and fragrances and that. And just keeping everything reem, you know what I’m saying? ‘Cos that’s what makes me happy, like. There’s that saying they say in’t there, that bliss is ignorance or something. Well, maybe that’s how I wanna live my life, in’t it? And you can just sha’app if you’ve got a problem with that, or I’ll apple juice* ya to the bloody curb mate!
*’Get rid of’ – as per the aforementioned ‘Joey Essex dictionary