This is the first part of a non traditional non fan fiction story about a rock star, a nervous breakdown and a mad stalker. Cake is required in the reading of this book. No famous people were hurt in the writing of this book.
So it was that on a very sunny Friday morning we found ourselves, almost by accident, outside the home of Ricky Wilson...shakes the head...I know, I know...no longer teetering, we were now clinging on to sanity by our fingertips. I say accidentally because we were just innocently sitting outside a café having breakfast when he passed on his morning run...coincidence stepped in and was on our side....it would've been rude not to chase...sorry follow...sorry walk quickly in the general direction that he was going in...just plain rude. We may have pushed it slightly by hiding in doorways and up alleys every time he turned around...but luckily...for us...he never noticed a thing...well I hope he didn't. Not that we were actually very close to him, but people coming towards us couldn't really ignore the two extremely unfit, extremely red-faced, panting women desperately running down the street carrying a large box of doughnuts...although I did consider the pointing and laughing to be quite rude.
Then he stopped and started doing stretching exercises...I mean who really does that, other than people who are being filmed for fitness DVD's...please don't let there be any recorded evidence of my madness. He suddenly turned around, and so, not wanting him to notice us, we gracefully dived through the nearest shop doorway. From the outside it appeared to be just any old fancy dress shop, and inside costumes hung from the ceiling, nurses, superheroes, catsuits, weird pvc all in one type things...with hoods...which seemed excessive, and impractical.
I kept an eye out the shop door for any sign of him leaving, he stretches an awful lot, while the best friend took a nosey around. 'We're leaving' she said motioning towards the shelves, they had lots of tribal art on display, strange fertility statues...who knew ancient tribes had access to batteries...and made whips...ummm...'You worry me sometimes' said the best friend as we attempted to leave the premises unnoticed, bumping into a shelf unit and sending dozens of imaginatively titled DVD's scattering across the floor, who knew the T-Rex could actually do that with those iddy biddy arms. We decided to never mention the episode again.
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