Life and Laughing_ My Story - Michael McIntyre [45]
‘Maybe,’ I said with more nonchalance than I knew I was capable of.
She seemed intrigued by my cocky persona.
‘What have you been up to?’ she asked.
‘Snogging,’ I coolly announced.
‘What? In school?’ she probed.
‘No, me and my friends went to a ball the other night, and let’s just say … I got a little bit of action,’ I said, trying to make her jealous.
‘Oh, the one at the Hammersmith Palais. I can’t believe you went to that. That’s for like, the poshest people on earth. Apparently everyone snogs everyone, it’s gross. I know a girl called Izzy went and snogged, like, every boy there. But I’m glad you met someone, what’s her name? Where does she go to school?’
My face went bright red as I looked for an excuse to leave. A National Express coach drove past us.
‘I’d better go, that’s my bus,’ and I ran after the coach.
‘Where are you going, Michael? … That’s a coach … to Birmingham …’ she cried as I sprinted after it.
All week the school was buzzing at the prospect of this year’s school disco. I was thirteen years old and in my last year at Arnold House. I went shopping with my mum for my outfit and ended up opting for a fluorescent red shirt. I can’t remember where we bought it; all I remember is that it glowed in the dark, and I truly believed that my increased visibility would give me the edge over my male rivals. One of my mother’s friend’s daughters, Jessica Taylor, was also going, so my mother organized her to be my ‘date’. Before you get excited and think I may have ‘pulled’ before I even got to the disco, let me just explain that Jessica was 6 foot 3 inches and had a thick moustache.
Steve had a new ‘company car’ that David Rosenberg had given him to replace the written-off BMW 6-Series. It was a black Ford Orion 1.6i with ‘new car’ smell. It was a balmy summer’s night, a perfect opportunity to use the sunroof which came as standard. Steve and I picked up my ‘date’, Jessica, and he chauffeured us to the disco. I sat in the back with my red shirt glowing, and Jessica sat in the front with her head sticking out of the sunroof, her moustache blowing in the warm wind.
It was so weird arriving at school at night. I looked at Lucy’s empty wall in the crepuscular (surely the most impressive word I’ve used so far. It basically means dim) light. I was so over her. As soon as I shake off Jessica, I’ll have the pick of all the girls in the Borough of Camden. Jessica and I put our coats away and nervously walked into my school gymnasium, the sound of Wham!’s ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ getting louder with every step. The gym was unrecognizable; there was a glitter ball, flashing coloured lights, and smoke pumped out of a smoke machine. Nobody was dancing. All the boys were camped out in one corner and all the girls in the opposite corner. I looked up to Jessica’s face; the lights were reflecting off my fluorescent shirt making her moustache look like it was on fire. Almost in unison we said we wanted to find our friends. So we each took our places on our respective sides of the gym.
There must have been about fifty boys and fifty girls. I hooked up with Sam and my friends. ‘What the fuck are you wearing, McIntyre?’ Sam said (in fact, everyone said that). ‘Who do you fancy?’ asked Sam gesturing towards the girls camped in their corner. There they all were. Fifty thirteen-year-old girls of all different colours and creeds and shapes and sizes; it was like an advert for Benetton.
I saw Lucy Protheroe. I could cross her off the list, so there were forty-nine potentials. They all looked pretty in their own way, all dressed up in their new dresses. Even Jessica looked quite attractive until she got her hair tangled up in the basketball net. I had my eye on one girl who was wearing a Madonna-inspired ensemble complete with white lace gloves. When the DJ put on ‘Ghostbusters’ accompanied by some strobe lighting, she had a mild epileptic fit and had to be picked up by her parents. Down to forty-eight; they’re dropping like flies. Someone’s got to make a move and ask one of them to