Bad-ley Walsh

hes bad. (in a good way)

Your favourite show is The Chase. You don't know why, it's just so riveting. The way the contestants have to be so fast, so quick, to outsmart the chasers. But your eyes aren't on the chasers... no no... They're on him. With his greying hair and amazingly short, meaty, yet beautiful build. Those blue eyes... Bradley.... The presenter. Bradley Walsh.

You've dreamt of being able to go on The Chase, not for the typical reasons like winning or money, but for something else... the chance to meet him. It's all you've ever wanted in life. To be in the arms of the hunky Walsh male. To hear his sweet, delicate voice whispering in your ear all of the things he loves about you, while you state at all the things, or maybe one little thing... you love about him. Its incredible, unsurpassable, the fire you already feel between the two of you.

So you apply. You apply for The Chase, and then you apple again, and again, and again, and.. Well... You never seem to receive anything back from them. Not even an email or a phone call. You just don't understand, you might not be the smartest encyclopedia in the non-fiction book shelf but you are a fittie so it makes no sense why they wouldn't want you on their show. Life goes on...

You watch The Chase every day, you find other media he's been in, The Sarah Jane Adventures as that Hot hot smokin clown, Doctor Who as A Man... the list goes on. You find yourself indulging in his entire videography, watching everything, getting sweaty. It's beautiful, he's beautiful and perfect, but he's not the real thing. He'll never be the real thing. You sit in silence every day once the media ends, you go into your room, every floor, wall and ceiling, all the furniture, your bed all being plastered with Bradley Walsh's face, but not even that is enough. It's not the real thing. You feel nothing. Life seems dull, bland. You do the same things every day. Still, nothing.

You check your emails again and again, nothing. There's never anything. You think to yourself, maybe.. maybe I should go outside now. Maybe I should see the real world, meet a real man. So you head towards your front door, a smile on your face as you approach something other than Bradley Walsh for the first time in months. But then, you hear it. A phone call. You never receive those... unless...

Your front door slams closed as you run to the phone, at first, silence as you pick it up, but then a voice. A voice which makes all other sounds in the world disappear, all other thoughts turn to dust. The sound of acceptance. You have been accepted to appear on The Chase. You fall to the floor, exasperated, sweat dripping from your face. You've made it. You've finally made it. You place your head into your hands and finally feel a real emotion. Joy, and a hint of arousal. You cry into those hands for the rest of the night.

The day finally comes, a week later. A taxi outside your door beeping for your attendance. You sit down in the back seats, shaking and unable to blink as the taxi takes you so much more closer to the dream you've longed for for so long. You drive for what seems like hours and then you arrive at a big grey building, the ITV logo in the corner. You step out of the taxi, almost forgetting to pay and barely able to stand on your anxious legs. You're escorted to the correct room and you feel tears coming again. This is it, this is the dream. You're here. You've made it.

You're taken to a red dressing room with three other strangers inside, your competitors, supposedly team mates but you know they're all out for your man too. He's too perfect for these people to just be here for The Chase, they want him too. You wait and wait, shaking your leg, pacing the room. The strangers give you cautious looks but you ignore them, they will never understand how deeply you feel. They will never understand your love.

Then... they call it. They call for your group to enter the studio. The big counter with the chairs situated next to the huge player board with the ominous Chaser seat atop, however, you aren't here for all that. You sit where you are told and stare so intensely forwards that your eyes start to hurt and you feel them tearing up, dripping down your face. A makeup team member has to correct your face for the lighting. The lights dim down, the red intensifies and sounds start to play to prepare for the show. Your anticipation worsens, you can't stop shaking, you forget when you last used a toilet or ate or drunk anything. You feel the tears coming back. And then, the music dims down, the lights dim down and a shadowed figure appears from another entrance.

Studio left. Bradley Walsh. Standing all of 10 meters away from you. He's so real, his skin is so textured his hair is so soft. You spent so long staring at posters that you feel like you're seeing a new world. You are seeing a new world. The Bradley Walsh is before you, starting his script as the cameras start rolling. He jokes around, his eyes meet with yours a few times. A few times is good, that means he's seen you, he likes you already. It's going so well. The first contestant goes up, it's going well, he's answering all the questions correctly, he's confident. Then the Chase. He loses. You feel bad but then you return to Bradley. His laid back posture as he leans effortlessly and attractively against the playing board.

The second contestant is up. She stumbles, she forgets simple answers, she fails. The Chase might as well had not happened she was destined to lose. The third contestant did almost as badly as her, yet managed to get a few things right. But when you watch them walk back to their seat, you realise... it's your turn. You stand from your seat, your arms and legs stiff, your body melting from sweat. You pray to anybody out there that you look good right now, that Bradley realises how good looking you are too, that he notices you. From the amount of times he made eye contact with you you realise you are his favourite of the contestants. He greets you, he shakes your hand. You have now touched the hand of Bradley Walsh. His hand skin just touched your skin. He was so close you could feel his breath. He's still so close.

You feel confident about the game. You answer some questions, you flirt a little. He flirts back. He jokes around. It's like a perfect first date. It was fate that you both were supposed to meet. You can feel it. You can see it in his eyes. He loves you already, just as much as you love him. You get a decent score for your first round, but then comes The Chase.

The Chaser, who was announced to the first contestant as Anne Heggarty, The.. whatever she is. You never remembered the chaser's names, just Brad. He's still looking at you, and you admire his deep eyes, his soul seeping from within them.

What is it called when you do something runny in your pants?

You know the answer to that.

What's the name of the 7th Continent?

You've got it.

Who is the president of the United States?

Obvious.

You pass every question with ease. It goes so well you wonder how the other contestants didn't get through. You feel like a genius in front of your love. If he didn't love you already, which couldn't possibly be true, he will now. You're gonna be chosen as a Chaser after this. You're amazing. You... are leaving.

The music dims, the spotlight is on you and then the Music Cue plays. The Chaser won. You are out. You're being escorted out, a man in black clothes created to blend into the background takes your shoulders and leads you out of the room. You end up in a hall way being told to follow the signs to the exit. You have nothing. You are nothing. Nothing to Bradley Walsh. You find yourself outside the building.

You have no idea how long you have been stood there but eventually you see Bradley exit through a back door. You smile, your mouth opening to speak as you head over. He came back for you!!! He does love you. He's heading your way too, it was fate. You were supposed to lose so he could find you, tell you it was ok and take you home. But then he walks right past you, doesn't even see you. He hugs another woman standing by a car, kids in the back seat, she kisses him on the lips. It's her, not you. Her. He gets in and they drive away, and you are told to exit the premises. You are stunned to silence. What did you ever see in him? How could he do this to you?

But then you check your pocket as you are walking out.

A piece of paper, with a handwritten note on it:

"You were my favourite contestant ever :)" - followed by a heart.

You smile. You might not be in love but he noticed you. You were his favourite contestant ever. You head home with a smile on your face, content. Finally happy. You plan a trip out to the park the next day, maybe go for a walk. You take down all your Bradley Walsh posters except for one. One taken from the day the two of you finally met. You remember that day forever every time you accomplish something or do something fun for yourself.

Bradley Walsh saved you. And you saved yourself.

You are happy. :)

The End.