As a one-television family I’m currently trying to find shows that the ‘small one’ and I can watch together. It is a real struggle. He’s not one for The Handmaids Tale and if I have to watch one more episode of Uncle Grandpa (Pizza Steve in case you are reading this I really, really hate you) the TV remote may go through the screen.
We are trying to find some middle ground and shows we can both endure… so far that is made up of Bondi Rescue, The 7.30 Report (the ‘small one’ watched the magnificent Leigh Sales tear shreds off Clive Palmer and he was hooked…), Would I Lie To You, Location,Location,Location (who doesn’t love Kirsty & Phil) and a variety of funny fail shows. Now for those that don’t know what funny fail shows are they are basically video clips of people and animals stacking themselves. As much as these shows aren’t my bag you do get sucked in and end up laughing as some poor 2 year-old child (or hamster) falls down the stairs or gets hit in the face by a swing.
Anyway last night on the sofa as I was watching one such show (this was a cat special) I started to think what my top fails and most embarrassing moments would be. Luckily I don’t have video evidence of any of these, but hopefully through the power of words and interpretive dance I can recreate the top 5 Mahoney Moments.
Coming in strong at number 5 - The school disco…
It was an end of year disco for the under 12’s and it was being held at the Porthcawl Pavilion. All the schools in the area were going before we broke up for the summer holidays. It was also the last time I was going to see Anthony Jones before he left our primary school for the comprehensive. I loved him. He had the face of an angel. He didn’t know I loved him. He didn’t know I had cut out a photo of him from the Glamorgan Gazette and it stuck up on my wall but I had. He was my proper first love.
I had my outfit planned weeks out from the disco and I had almost perfected my dance moves in my bedroom mirror. I was so excited walking into the pavilion on the night of the disco. There was big hair everywhere, wall-to-wall puffball skirts and 80’s hits were pumping (it was the 80’s after all). In typical under 12’s behavioural patterns the dance floor was segregated – boys one side and girls the other. Girls dancing together in circles and most of the boys were sitting on chairs watching with the more adventurous boys running and doing skids on their knees. ‘Frankie’ by Sister Sledge came on and I made my move. Anthony and I locked eyes as I walked across the no-mans land bit of the dance floor towards him. We didn’t take our eyes off each other and then suddenly there I was in right front of him and all the other boys who were seated on chairs.
“Anthony would you like to dance?” I said over the music.
“No” he replied.
My heart sank, my cheeks flushed bright red and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying as I made the long lonely walk across the dance floor.
Looking back I realised what a terrible song Frankie would have been to dance to and maybe ‘angel face’ would have said yes if Duran Duran had been playing.
(As a footnote and so that Anthony doesn’t get trolled for his dance-floor crimes he has mentioned to me on many occasions since that he regrets not saying yes and he was just too embarrassed in front of his friends.)
Epic fail. What was I thinking this song is dance floor suicide.
Ladies and gentleman coming in hot at Number 4 - Picking up your holiday snaps….
Now for some of you reading this you may never have experienced the ‘Kodak moment’. Back before mobile phones if you wanted to take a photo you needed a camera and a roll of film. Growing up in the UK we always went to Boots the Chemist to get our films developed. We had just come back from a school trip to Switzerland (one of the only overseas trips I think our comprehensive ever did). It was so much fun… well apart from being on a coach for 18 hours and Jason Bishop singing The Smiths at full pelt every time it looked like one of us might falling asleep. My love affair with the purple cow aka Milka chocolate began on this trip, but best of all I snogged a really hot boy at an ice skating disco. There was another school from the UK in the same Swiss town as us and we all ended up at the local rink.
I don’t remember his name anymore (I was 13 so we are going way back) but I remember all the girls thought he was hot and he had hair exactly like Rick Astley. We swapped addresses and we had a photo taken together. As soon as we got home I was straight up to Boots in town to put in my film to get developed.
Now is probably a good time to confess to something I used to do when I was younger. Back in the day I used to dry my front bits with a hair dryer. There I’ve said it… I’m not proud but at the same time it was a quick way to dry your self and it felt quite nice (remember this was the late ‘80’s and way before Sex In The City and Brazilians). I shared a room with a couple of girls on the trip who were my close mates and were both across my coiffured ways. What I didn’t realise was one of the days mid-dry they had taken a photo of me in action using my camera.
Back in those days the films were developed onsite by the same person that gave you your photos when you went to pick them up. I wondered why the young man behind the counter had a slight smirk on his face… and then I went through the photos while still standing at the counter and I realised exactly while he was smirking. I didn’t keep that one funnily enough but the pic below was from the same batch. I imagine I was the colour of my top when I left the chemist. I got Mum to pick up my Kodak moments after that.
We are getting to the medal podium as we hit Number 3 - What would Walt think?
I was on holiday in Europe and the ex and I had decided to go to Euro Disney just outside Paris. It was an overcast day but how can you be grey when you are hanging with Mickey & Minnie and all their other goofy mates. The grey turned to rain and the obligatory yellow, plastic ponchos were quickly purchased and put on. At some point I needed the loo so I had a quick restroom stop before we carried on queuing with all the masses for the various rides.
Sometime a later an elderly lady tapped me on the shoulder and quietly whispered I had toilet paper coming out of jeans. I’d like to clarify that luckily the pit stop had been for a #1 and not a #2 and that because I am an ‘over’ wiper and had used close to a 1/3 of a roll of toilet paper there was a fair bit of paper hanging out. In the yellow poncho and with my tail dragging along I’m hoping that most people mistook me for Tiger from Winnie the Poo, but sadly I doubt it.
Close but no cigar and at Number 2 - Cheese Graters are best in the kitchen
Actually this happened on the same trip as the ‘Tiger’ incident. We had just arrived at Charles De Gaulle Airport and I needed to go to the toilet. I was wearing a lovely pattered floaty silk dress with lots of fabric… no idea where that dress is now sadly as it was a beauty!
We had checked in and were queuing to go through passport control. The airport was heaving with people. My ex was in front of me and there was a big line up behind me. We were queued up for ages and everyone was getting impatient.
Finally we got through passport control and were in the duty free area. I walked past an immaculate French women who was offering a spray of whatever the latest fragrance was. As I passed her she said in her beautiful accent “Excuse me but your dress is caught up at the back.” That is what she said. But what she meant was your dress is tucked into your undies and everyone can see one of your bum cheeks. On the one sodding day I decide to wear a G Banger (the cheese-graters of lingerie) my dress gets caught in it and half of France got a flash! I wore Bridget Jones nana pants from then on, especially at airports.
Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, the moment you have all been waiting for but minus the TV adverts… Number 1 - This one is for you Spike
It was the 90’s and it was when the whole rave scene was at its peak. Two van loads of us left Porthcawl for Universal a festival in Bath. Sasha was playing and he was the undisputed KING of the decks. We were so excited. Dancing in a field with 1000’s of other young people for hours on end what’s not to be excited about!
Now as I said it was the 90’s and catsuits were a popular choice with the ladies. Catsuits, sneakers and colourful beads. I look back and this was a fashion choice I should have avoided like the plague. I had decent legs but my middle didn’t really need to be accentuated in black lycra – that was ok though as I would tie my top around the middle to hide my wobbly bits (actually looking back at old pics the top tied around the middle probably made me look even lumpier)… anyway.
The other thing about a catsuit that isn’t ideal is you need to take it all off to go to the loo. As this particular style had a low back you couldn’t wear a bra… I would never do that now as gravity has started to take hold but as I was 18 my boobs were where they should be.
There were porta-loos set up in a half circle just like you see at festivals and concerts now. The queues got gnarly but if you timed your loo visit about 10 minutes before you were really desperate you’d be in a cubicle just in time. As the toilets got pretty grubby there was no way you would sit on the seat. I was half standing half hovering over the loo. Cat suit down around my knees. Then the door swung open…Obviously I hadn’t fastened the lock properly.
I don’t know who screamed louder me or the raver whose hand was on the door handle. There I was basically stark bollock naked for him and everyone queuing to see. It was like that moment Spike opens the front door in the movie Notting Hill to a throng of media wearing only his undies… except I wasn’t wearing undies.
I stayed in the cubicle for what seemed like hours waiting for everyone who might of caught a glimpse of my public shaming to have long gone. I still cringe when I think back to that night and would like to apologise to the raver who has no doubt needed years of therapy to wipe that image from his mind.