take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Desperately seeking my inner Madonna 

A detached National Trust holiday home in the shadow of Skiddaw seems an unlikely venue for a masterful performance of "Papa don't preach", but with the help of a PS2 and this, I was able to fulfil a long held ambition to do Karaoke in the non-intimidating atmosphere of a group of close friends.

I was tentative at first: not a fan of being the centre of attention (one of the reasons why I won't be getting married), I chose to start with a duet of "Everybody's changing" (Keane), which bolstered me with more confidence than I thought I had to take to the floor for some further tunes.

My Madonna was, without question, the performance of the night, although my renditions of "Careless Whisper" (George Michael), "The Bucket" (Kings of Leon) and "Take me out" (Franz Ferdinand) were pretty damn good too, if I say so myself. And all of these were performed stone cold sober, I might add.

Whilst I'm not particularly interested in the Madonna of the noughties, as a teenager, I was captivated by the Madonna of the "Desperately Seeking Susan" era. I wanted to be her - that gum-chewing, smoking, slovenly-yet-unutterably-stylish, slightly grubby, dangerous character portrayed in the movie, instead of the spoddish young girl in a school uniform who always handed her homework in on time. I loved that huge hat box which "Susan" put in the locker, later to be discovered by the other Susan. I coveted that weird jacket with the pyramid on the back. I even wanted those stupid sparkly boots.

So, twenty odd years later, just for those few minutes in that large living room, with a wood fire burning and my friends around me, despite the fact that I was wearing a fleece and some trackie bottoms and I looked utterly horrendous, I *was* Madonna.

Damn - I still want to be a pop star!

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