Cutting the ribbon in the winnebago of dreams
The only time I have ever been on the television (and been aware of it) is a tale of woe my friends. As it’s a Friday, I’ll regale you all, well, those of you that care to read this anyway.

Cast you minds back to 1990 when a painting by Vincent van Gogh sold for a record $82.5 million, the pilot episode of Seinfeld premiered, Madonna's "Justify My Love" music video was banned by MTV and there was a 6 year old me - A small, blonde, excitable ball of giggles who wanted nothing more than to spend everyday running around with my arms outstretched pretending to be a plane (I will admit, not much has changed).

It was a horrible overcast day when the most a-ma-zing piece of news was given in our school assembly. Looking up at our headmaster we were all filled with glee as he informed us that the new by-pass was going to be opened in a few weeks time. Now I’d like to point out at this moment that none of us gave a crap about the by-pass in the slightest, what we had concerned ourselves with was the television crew that would be filming the opening ceremony - one lucky kid in my year would get the chance to help cut the ribbon to officially open the road. DID I MENTION WE WOULD GET TO BE ON TV!

The tension in the hall was palpable as we all held our breath to find out how we could win such an exceptional prize. Turns out all we needed to do was be good. For a fortnight. Mwah ha haaa, I was in. I was already ‘the nice quiet one’ so all I had to do was keep my head down for two weeks, help out, be nice and the prize would be all mine!!

Skip forward a week and a half and I had pushed my way to the top of the list. I’d cleaned out the hamsters, I’d cleaned up the paint pots, my desk and drawer were gleaming, my handwriting was even neater, and everyone had noticed. I was in, I was there, I was teh winnah, right? Wrong.

What I hadn’t gambled on was that two days before the end of the competition one of the stupid girls in my class would shut her hand in a door. Now up until this point I was winning, my little name barley visible on my sheet due to the sheer amount of gold stars I have acquired. However this did not matter to my teacher, the other girl was a trooper, she cut a few fingers and still came to school, so all my hard work went out the window and I lost out to a bloody moron who didn’t know how to shut a door without removing her fingers first. *insert sad face here*

You might be wondering at this point how I actually managed to get myself on the telly if I didn’t end up winning the competition. If you’re not wondering that, I’m going to tell you anyway.

On the day of the ‘ribbon cutting ceremony’ my entire year got dragged out to a muddy stretch of road and huddled together in the pissing rain to witness my stupid classmate all warm and cosy in what can only be described as a WINNEBAGO OF DREAMS smugly cutting a ribbon, (which she couldn’t even cut that well because of the massive bandage on her stupid fingers).

After the ceremony the camera crew decided to pan across the crowd to show our cheering faces. Oh how I wish I had a copy of that film as I was slap-bang in the middle of the crowd with my arms folded with a proper little face on trying not to cry.

Apologies for the length, but you can’t put a word count on childhood pain and anguish.

Well you can but meh.
(Flim-Flam the Magnificent "You is talking loco and I like it!", Fri 12 Jun 2009, 15:36, 1 reply)

there there
come and get a wee cuddle....

now, how would you like to star in you OWN film?

A special film, it will be on a real dvd, with a cover and everything...
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Fri 12 Jun 2009, 16:15, closed)