but had to be done. Trackies = dangerously addictive gateway drug disguised as comfort …
10.46am @foxyroxy
1 minute you’re sat watching TV, feeling comfy – next, you’re pushing trolley round Lidl with no foundation + split ends
10.47am @foxyroxy
Plus they add 20lbs + give bumslide down to knees.
#ROXYSAYS: Chuck out your trackies – keep your arse at your arse!
ROXY
When she was little, there were many things Roxy imagined her grown-up self doing – parachuting out of an aeroplane, vogueing with Madonna, posing for Mario Testino … Spending a Thursday night at the home of a former government minister wasn’t one of them. But here she was, perched on the over-stuffed chesterfield sofa of the former Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, doing her best to blank out a plate of Simon’s home-made mini cheesecakes, and concentrate instead on the self-pitying grumbles of a former TV weatherman.
‘One wrong forecast and I lost everything,’ Terence moaned. ‘My job, my income, my status …’
‘Yeah, but, be honest,’ Simon interrupted dryly. ‘It wasn’t just
one
wrong forecast.’
‘It wasn’t just the tornado?’ Roxy asked in surprise, the mini cheesecakes suddenly forgotten. She read the papers religiously – well, the showbiz pages – but this was news to her.
‘Let’s see …’ Simon made a show of remembering. ‘Well, there was the small matter of him failing to forecast the UK’sheaviest-ever hail storm … the one that caved in the roof of that school bus.’
‘Nobody could have predicted that!’ Terence protested. ‘Besides, the children didn’t complain.’
‘The children were treated for shock.’
‘What about the London floods?’ Cressida piped up. ‘Sunshine, you told us. We had to evacuate Parliament. The Lords was slopping with wigs.’
‘And then there was the thunderstorm at the Royal Wedding,’ added Holly. ‘They’d never have used the open-top carriage if you’d said it would rain. Who knew white went so see-through?’
‘And let’s not forget the Telford Tornado!’ cried Simon. ‘Or the fact that you personally bankrupted thousands. People lost their life savings thanks to you!’
‘I never said my forecast for a white Christmas was one hundred per cent accurate.’
‘We could bet our houses on it, you said.’
‘It’s not my fault we’re a nation of gamblers!’
‘Four hundred families became homeless!’
‘But I lost things too: My job, my reputation, my wife …’
‘Your wife left you because you lost your
job?’
Sue looked shocked.
‘The best years of my life I gave her.
And
my employer. And neither stood by me when the shit hit the fan.’
‘Oh, Terence.’
‘But your employer wouldn’t have been able to stand by you after that,’ Woody reasoned. ‘Even the continuity announcer introduced you as Tornado.’
‘He’d always had it in for me. It wasn’t my fault the viewers never got to see him.’
‘And you’re sure your wife didn’t leave you because of your enormous persecution complex and complete inability to move on?’ Simon smirked.
‘Yes, well,’ Cressida interjected. ‘Stiff upper lip, and all that.’
‘It’s all right for you, Cressida,’ Terence said indignantly. ‘Politicians have respect. I’m just a joke! My career’s now nothing more than a Trivial Pursuit answer.’
‘Yeah?’ Roxy was impressed. ‘What colour?’
Terence looked awkward. ‘Pink.’
Everyone winced.
‘I’m a meteorologist! I should be bloody green!’
‘I think you’ve been treated very unfairly.’ Sue touched Terence’s arm and he momentarily calmed. ‘Everyone knows how changeable the British weather is. They hardly ever get it right.’
‘They get it a lot more right without Terence,’ Simon muttered.
‘Look, everyone.’ Woody stepped in before Terence could rant again. ‘We’re not here to score points! What we
did
doesn’t matter; it’s what we’re
going to do
that counts. We need
10.46am @foxyroxy
1 minute you’re sat watching TV, feeling comfy – next, you’re pushing trolley round Lidl with no foundation + split ends
10.47am @foxyroxy
Plus they add 20lbs + give bumslide down to knees.
#ROXYSAYS: Chuck out your trackies – keep your arse at your arse!
ROXY
When she was little, there were many things Roxy imagined her grown-up self doing – parachuting out of an aeroplane, vogueing with Madonna, posing for Mario Testino … Spending a Thursday night at the home of a former government minister wasn’t one of them. But here she was, perched on the over-stuffed chesterfield sofa of the former Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, doing her best to blank out a plate of Simon’s home-made mini cheesecakes, and concentrate instead on the self-pitying grumbles of a former TV weatherman.
‘One wrong forecast and I lost everything,’ Terence moaned. ‘My job, my income, my status …’
‘Yeah, but, be honest,’ Simon interrupted dryly. ‘It wasn’t just
one
wrong forecast.’
‘It wasn’t just the tornado?’ Roxy asked in surprise, the mini cheesecakes suddenly forgotten. She read the papers religiously – well, the showbiz pages – but this was news to her.
‘Let’s see …’ Simon made a show of remembering. ‘Well, there was the small matter of him failing to forecast the UK’sheaviest-ever hail storm … the one that caved in the roof of that school bus.’
‘Nobody could have predicted that!’ Terence protested. ‘Besides, the children didn’t complain.’
‘The children were treated for shock.’
‘What about the London floods?’ Cressida piped up. ‘Sunshine, you told us. We had to evacuate Parliament. The Lords was slopping with wigs.’
‘And then there was the thunderstorm at the Royal Wedding,’ added Holly. ‘They’d never have used the open-top carriage if you’d said it would rain. Who knew white went so see-through?’
‘And let’s not forget the Telford Tornado!’ cried Simon. ‘Or the fact that you personally bankrupted thousands. People lost their life savings thanks to you!’
‘I never said my forecast for a white Christmas was one hundred per cent accurate.’
‘We could bet our houses on it, you said.’
‘It’s not my fault we’re a nation of gamblers!’
‘Four hundred families became homeless!’
‘But I lost things too: My job, my reputation, my wife …’
‘Your wife left you because you lost your
job?’
Sue looked shocked.
‘The best years of my life I gave her.
And
my employer. And neither stood by me when the shit hit the fan.’
‘Oh, Terence.’
‘But your employer wouldn’t have been able to stand by you after that,’ Woody reasoned. ‘Even the continuity announcer introduced you as Tornado.’
‘He’d always had it in for me. It wasn’t my fault the viewers never got to see him.’
‘And you’re sure your wife didn’t leave you because of your enormous persecution complex and complete inability to move on?’ Simon smirked.
‘Yes, well,’ Cressida interjected. ‘Stiff upper lip, and all that.’
‘It’s all right for you, Cressida,’ Terence said indignantly. ‘Politicians have respect. I’m just a joke! My career’s now nothing more than a Trivial Pursuit answer.’
‘Yeah?’ Roxy was impressed. ‘What colour?’
Terence looked awkward. ‘Pink.’
Everyone winced.
‘I’m a meteorologist! I should be bloody green!’
‘I think you’ve been treated very unfairly.’ Sue touched Terence’s arm and he momentarily calmed. ‘Everyone knows how changeable the British weather is. They hardly ever get it right.’
‘They get it a lot more right without Terence,’ Simon muttered.
‘Look, everyone.’ Woody stepped in before Terence could rant again. ‘We’re not here to score points! What we
did
doesn’t matter; it’s what we’re
going to do
that counts. We need
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