I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I ended up saying that I would marry Boris Johnson. Actually, that's a lie. I do know exactly how it happened. The other day Mr SDS subjected me to a series of 'Snog, Marry, Avoid' scenarios, and he wasn't particularly generous with his choice of candidates. So when I said I'd marry Boris, it was merely because he was the best of a bad bunch, and I reckoned his bumbling babbling (and perhaps even a reminiscence or two about the Clash) would be marginally more fun than being shackled to the alternatives on offer who happened to be David Cameron and Ed Milliband. David Cameron got the snog - I mean, we wouldn't need to exchange political views, just a little bit of saliva.
In playing this game it's interesting how you find ways to justify your marriage choice above everything. I'm thinking: “Who would make me laugh? Who might I share some possible topics of interest with? Who could I bear to wander around Homebase with when choosing a new swing-bin?” Which is kind of what marriage boils down to in the end, I suppose, whilst the the snogging and avoiding become pretty incidental really (I could always keep eyes, lips and legs closed during the former, if required).
Anyway, I was shown no mercy, and the game continued. So now I have to snog, marry and avoid a number of characters, both real and fictional.
I'm snogging Jim Davidson, marrying Nick Hewer and avoiding Alan Sugar. It was obvious to me that I couldn't possibly marry or snog Alan, whilst – say what you like, but - I think I could tolerate a quickie with Jim. However, Nick would have to be the best for stimulating conversation; we could share our admiration for Susie Dent and bitch about Apprentice contestants, then we could play our own version of Countdown together on rainy Sunday afternoons, not bad.
Of Ricky Gervais' fictional characters I've ended up getting hitched to Andy Millman from Extras (because I think we'd understand each other's creative dilemmas), thus having a quick canoodle with David Brent from The Office (I feel a bit sorry for him) and avoiding the eponymous Derek (which made me feel really mean).
When I move to Coronation Street, bad boy Peter Barlow can get it on with me if he can find room in his busy womanising schedule, but I'll keep out the way of Owen Armstrong - although he would be good at putting up shelves and – this is the killer – I'll become the new Mrs Roy Cropper. I know, I know. But I reckoned he'd be faithful, kind and make me nice breakfasts.
Russell Brand, Liam Gallagher and Justin Bieber presented a dilemma. I wanted to snog and marry Russell and avoid the other two but them's the rules. You can probably guess my choices.
Never mind that they're gay: I'm marrying Graham Norton, whilst snogging Rylan Clark (cue clashing of teeth) and deftly avoiding Louis Spence who would drive me up the fucking wall.
And I was even given a crack at the women, thus marrying Emma Willis, kissing Pink (it just sounded good, and I think she might be a man anyway) and avoiding Emma Bunton.
I'll have to bat a few back, of course. Madonna, Cher or Mel B? Ann Widdecombe, Edwina Currie or Christine Hamilton? Valerie Singleton, Lesley Judd or Shep? Hours of fun, and it beats that trip to Homebase.
POST SCRIPT: 2016....I hate Boris Johnson. I could not nor would not have anything to do with him.
