Hollie McNish does not work out with Davina McCall

I will get back to the justice warrior posting soon, but I just wanted to catch this snippet of my life before it flies out of my tiny, incapacitated brain.

I went to a poetry slam event last Sunday, arranged by my friend, the brilliant, performance poet, Toby Campion. I’ve posted stuff about Toby on here before, and really I cannot recommend his work enough. He is truly gifted.

It was at Leicester University, and we saw the finals of an all day slam where four teams of students competed against each other for a place in a grand slam event in Texas. It was tense stuff.

To be honest, when I went, I thought it would be a lot of adolescent moaning, circa my own Sylvia Plath inspired maunderings of the late Eighties. I was nervous.

Turns out I didn’t need to be. Modern teenagers are much more literate, politically erudite and talented.

Thank the tiny, baby Cheezus for that. There is hope for the future.

Not only did we spend three hours listening to some stunning poetry from the students, we also got to hear Hollie McNish.

Hollie is the incredibly brilliant woman who wrote and performed the poem Mathematics, which did the rounds of Facebook a while back.

She was SO good, and when I got home I ordered two books of her poetry, one which was being published on Thursday. I was so excited I actually pre-ordered it. Praise indeed.

On Thursday a parcel arrived from Amazon. I ripped it open expecting poetry, only to find Davina McCall’s Fifteen Minute Work Out.

To say I was traumatised was understating things.

We all know how I feel about exercise (the devil’s work) and Davina, well, she’s exhausting even when she’s not bulking up her abs in orange lycra.

I opened my account details. Had I done crazed shopping while in some kind of sleep deprived ecstatic haze? No. Thank God. I could rule out expecting more random items, sheds, four pounds of apricot jam, weasel hair coats, etc.

I thought about it. Sometimes lovely people send me surprise gifts. This was truly a surprise. I interrogated Facebook. Nobody confessed. I interrogated Jason in case it was a surreal way of him saying thank you for the life size Tom Baker cut out I bought him last week. Nope.

Later, after more investigation it transpires that the tired worker/drone in the Amazon warehouse had grabbed McCall instead of McNish. I think Hollie would be delighted to know she shares shelf space with Davina. It is a gorgeous juxtaposition.

I have to return it, or they will charge me for 15 minutes of Davina I don’t want.

I thought it would be easy. Pop to post office with returns label. Job’s a good ‘un.

Nope.

I had to choose an Amazon locker delivery site. This is the modern world.

WHAT?

They have lockers all over the city, apparently. You deposit your item in there, using the secret code they give you, and some mysterious stranger comes and empties the lockers and whisks Davina back to the underground bunker she came from.

There are about twenty of these lockers in my area. It transpires however, that most of them are already full of returned Davina work out DVDs, and the only one I can get access to is at Morrison’s cheese counter on Aylestone Road.

So today, Davina and I are taking a trip to Morrison’s cheese counter with our secret code.

I will wear a hairnet, so that I blend in, and the job can be done in appropriately stealthy fashion.

 

 

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