My four-year-old is currently obsessed with the original Star Wars trilogy. For those of you who haven’t seen it or, more plausibly, were too distracted by the extreme cuteness of Ewoks to follow the plot, allow my son to summarise:
It happened far, far away, which is why you can’t watch it with subtitles. There were baddies and goodies, and also some robots called CP30 and Argentina. The baddies lived in an evil giant football and had better guns than the goodies, but they lost to the goodies because they didn’t concentrate like Mrs Griffiths says you should.
Basically, the ending of The Empire Strikes Back would have been VERY different if Darth Vader had had my son’s reception teacher to guide him. But hey, let’s not dwell on what might have been.
In addition to liking Star Wars, my son likes Lego. Star Wars Lego is, of course, very expensive and not worth the dent it would make in Mummy’s Shoe Fund. Hence in order to feed our child’s obsession/shut him up without spending any money, my partner and I dug out our old Playstation 2 Lego Star Wars game, and spent the weekend teaching our son how to play it. Anyone interested in the idea that video games promote violence would have a field day with this (btw, what is “a field day”? It sounds a bit like a field trip, only less cold and considerably more smug). There’s our cute little four-year-old, leaping about the front room, controller in hand, yelling “kill! Kill! Kill!” (alas, he has a speech impediment and what he actually yells is “chill! Chill! Chill!” Seems we’re a family of accidental pacifists). To be honest, I have misgivings about all this. But I’m not giving up yet, particularly as I’ve grown rather keen on PS2 Lego Star Wars myself of late.
The fact is, I’ve developed a crush on Han Solo. Not the real, Harrison Ford Han Solo – nose is too big – but the Lego one. He’s really cute, especially when he winks during the animation sequences in-between proper play. It’s unrealistic, I know. I’m not made of Lego and probably never will be (not unless Glamour recommends some new treatment to help with this). But to be honest, I’ve never let the total implausibility of a crush stand in my way before, and hell, I’m not going to start now. Lego Han Solo goes on The List forthwith.
Like many couples, my partner and I have “The List”. We are monogamous, but each maintain a select roll of people whom we’ve given each other permission to shag, should the opportunity arise. Of course, the opportunity never will arise, but it makes us feel a little less boring and vanilla. And in the spirit of general “what the hell-ness” I’ve allowed my own list to get more and more insane. And just so you know how non-boring and non-vanilla I am, at least in my imagination, I’ve decided to share it with you now.
So, in order of increasing implausibility, here’s my top five list of people I will never sleep with but definitely would if I could (and didn’t, like, chicken out when confronted by the sheer weirdness of it all):
- Andy off CBeebies We’d lock eyes across a toddler-filled room at some random meet ‘n’ greet. I’d take him away with me, get him a haircut, buy him some new clothes. It would be like Pretty Woman, him as Julia Roberts, me as Richard Gere. This isn’t to say I think CBeebies presenters are just like prostitutes. It’s simply an analogy – no offence intended towards either group.
- The whole cast of 10 o’clock live apart from Jimmy Carr Charlie Brooker: faux-angry, vigorous sex. David Mitchell: faux-geeky, righteous sex. Lauren Laverne: lush, pouty, cheeky, geordie sex. I like Lauren the best, having been a moderate fan of Kenickie in the mid-1990s. You and I, Lauren, we’d be on our backs looking up at the stars. We’d dress cheap and we’d dress tacky. We’d dance for thrills and our nights out’d get nasty (see, I can quote your own lyrics right back at you. And not to be harsh or anything, but I don’t think there’s that many people can do that these days. Or indeed could back in the mid-90s). Btw, I think we can all agree that the Jimmy Carr bit doesn’t need further explanation.
- Morrissey But only in the 1980s when he was fit. And opened his mouth to sing brilliant songs rather than to make horrendously racist pronouncements. A long time ago, basically. I mean, I accept that apart from the time travel issue, there are other complications, such as him being celibate and possibly asexual. And the fact that songs such as “Pretty girls make graves” might suggest that he actively dislikes women. But that’s okay. Don’t “lose [your] faith in womanhood”, Stephen. I’ll sort you out. I’m not pretty and I don’t “make graves”.
- Bernard Sumner from New Order, in one very specific live video recording of “Temptation” from 1984 It’s the lovely, sexy voice. And the shorts. The best bit is when he gets all thrusty with his arse in time to the music. Just that moment alone can go on the list. Not sure what I’d actually do with him at that point, what with the guitar being in the way, but I’m sure we’d think of something.
- Adam Ant, but only in the “Prince Charming” video Yes, another insanely specific 1980s crush. Plainly ridiculous. But hey, ridicule is nothing to be scared of.
You may of course be wondering who is on my partner’s list. He wanted to have the actress Thora Birch, but got mixed up and actually requested Thora Hird, who died in 2003 (some incident involving a tin bath and a cream cracker behind the sofa). Unfortunately, once you’ve asked for someone to be put on the list, you can’t go back on it. So Last of the Summer Wine-themed necrophilia it is, then.