Boyband Harassment & Takeaway Babies
What’s the difference between a The Wanted fan and a normal boy you ask? A litre of Jack Daniels. Or so I have learnt. I’ve seen them at shows, on the street, in hotels; and in all honesty never particularly cared. But this weekend after hitting that state of exuberance every promising young alcohol strives to spend their weekends in, I found myself running around their hotel, fanboying at the suspected sight of them and even harassing their hairdressers on the street. Yes not harassing this band I don’t particularly care for, but harassing their hairdressers. Literally jumping on them screaming “THE WANTINGS HAIR DRESSER!!”. Sometimes on stalks it’s vital to keep an element of secrecy to prevent others jumping on your crave, so referring to the band as The Wanting was our carefully thought out plan of ensuring this. Sadly The Wanting never did arrive at the hotel we’d spent the evening avidly waiting in the lobby of; but who needs actual celebrities when your combined phone books has everyone from TOWIE “stars” to One Direction sex pests. Most hilariously Zayn from 1D provided the most laughs with his instantaneous replies and abrupt end to phone calls. With inconspicuous not being a word familiar to the young pop icon, he didn’t particular care for this intrusive means of fan to star interaction by being as sarcastic as possible. He even chucked in a few MSN emoticons too. And if you happen to read this Zayn; you are a dirty, dirty boy.
Other than prank calls and joke texting, the only real celebrity encounter came after spotting the wheel chair lady from Coronation Street rolling down Deansgate at 5am. I don’t know what the laws are in regards to drink (wheel chair) driving, but she was clearly a little tipsy as she crashed her way through the city. Obviously we chased her and asked for a picture, which she very nicely agreed too. Other than us, many other fans had also anticipated The Wantings arrival at this fancy 5* and the place was literally crawling. Pregnant teens, excitable children and 12 year olds with buckets of champagne; the place was a literal joke. Especially after a man enquired if we’d be up for a Raidisson orgy with him and his mistress, spoken still with one hand down her trousers whilst propping up the bar. And then away from the public fingering and champagne popping children, there was then a couple of millionaire wives splashing their husbands cash whilst looking down their noses at the entire situation around them. Not particularly appreciating their real fur attire, I decided to spend a majority of the evening inviting myself to their table lecturing them on animal rights whilst drinking their drinks and singing my rendition of “Greatest love of all” to them. Not only did I help myself to a sip from their glass, but then invited my friend Natalie over to have a taste too! Once we’d successfully infuriated all the other residents and mine swept the remaining drinks as the hotel bar shut; off we went to Chinese Karaoke. Embarrassment then came after being refused to sing after requesting McFly; but it’s not Natalie’s fault if she’s a Star Girl livng in Super City is it? After then mine sweeping our way through that bar, off we went to another for much of the same! My vision then became slightly blurry, but the few things I vividly remember occurring are; 1, helping ourselves to a bite of a tramps burger on the street. 2, “looting” a babies buggy we found deserted on the street. And 3, putting all our takeaway in said buggy and then wheeling it through our fancy hotel up to our room shouting “WE’VE GIVEN BIRTH TO SOME CHEESY CHIPS”. Who’s the dad? Abduls takeaway.
The best thing of all though was no matter how rowdy we become or how inappropriate they deemed our behaviour, as paying residents the hotel staff literally had to do anything we required! At one point we had 3 people at our door; one with a knife to open a bottle of Vodka which was providing difficult, one with a bottle open for Rachel’s cider, and lastly, one with a pair scissors to cut Laura’s false eye lashes. There’s also one woman whose sole job at the hotel is simply to head into each room in the evening and fold their blanket down in preparation of bed time. I’m sure this is the better life she dreamt off whilst spending a month in the back of truck with her family sneaking into our country. If I had to pick a favourite staff of all though, it’d most certainly be the lady who chased me round the spa into the sauna for “inappropriate attire”. Apparently Topman underwear just aren’t worthy of gracing the Rad’s pool.
