So I got home from work tonight and gave my hair a lather-rinse-repeat-wash to get out all the smell of fry grease and I began ironing it straight and putting on some blusher and finding my charm bracelet when my mum shouts, “Wooooo-hoooo, Shiraz, LOVER BOY is here!” So I go look out of Cava-Sue’s bedroom window and Wesley is outside parking up his banana-yellow Golf.
He gets out of the car and he’s got on his black Kappa trackie pants and his navy Hackett sweatshirt and his pink Hackett shirt underneath and his hair’s got styling wax in it like he always does when it’s the weekend and he’s proper making an effort. I watch him lock up the Golf, turn to walk away, then turn around and check it out for a bit, then walk back to it and examine a mark on the hood. Wesley loves his car.
My stomach still feels a bit funny when I see Wesley. Not as much as it used to when I first ever met him, but I still reckon he’s buff and all that in his own way. He’s a well lovely person too. And it’s not like everyone can go out with someone proper choong like Ashton Kutcher can they?
Everyone in my house loves Wesley. The minute he walks in our house my mother—who can be a right old puffadder—is up making him a cup of tea and my dad is asking him what he reckons about the new West Ham soccer trade and my brother is trying to get him to play Decapitation Nation on PS2 and even Cava-Sue takes her clonking great clown’s feet off the sofa and lets him park his bum.
“’Ere, Wesley, you couldn’t have a look at our khazi could you?!” my mum was shouting through from the kitchen as I came downstairs. “It ain’t filling right up when you flush!”
“Mother! Wesley don’t wanna look at our khazi!” I said, looking around for my other hoop earring.
“Oh, I don’t mind, innit,” Wesley said smiling. “I got some tools in the trunk too if need be.”
“In the trunk, Wesley!?” shouted Mum. “You don’t wanna be carrying those tools round with you in yer trunk! They’ll get stolen round ’ere.”
“Well he never knows when he’ll need them, Mum,” I said, trying not to sound narky. “He never knows when we might have a bloody toilet emergency.” Wesley laughed and started to go upstairs.
“’Ere, Wesley love, do you want a sandwich?” shouted Mum. “I got a can of corned beef opened here for the dog.”
“Nah, Mrs. W!” shouted Wesley. “I’m taking Shiraz for some nosh before we go to the AMC Loews, innit.”
“Oooh! Out for a meal!?” gasped my mum. “Very posh. ’Ere, you’ve got a good one there, Shiraz! I never got taken for no food when I was courting, did I, Brian? You never bought me a meal.”
“You’d never have shut up long enough to eat it,” muttered my dad from behind his Daily Star.
“What’s that?” shouted my mother.
“I said, I was so in love I never felt like eating,” said my dad.
After half an hour of Wesley crouching in our bathroom with his head in the toilet tank we finally left.
Me and Wesley went to Shanghai Shanghai in Romford Plaza for the All You Can Eat buffet, then we went to see TurboChase Terror II starring The Rock and Carmen Electra. The movie was about some geezer who had stolen a diamond but he didn’t know he’d stolen it until he was being chased by The Rock and was being propositioned by Carmen Electra who spent the whole of the film lying about on car hoods wearing tops that didn’t fit her. I didn’t really want to watch TurboChase Terror II, but Wesley was proper keen. I wanted to watch this film called The Magician’s Maze that I saw a thing about on telly the other night. It’s about these kids who are left to run the world after a big nuclear war. Proper creepy it looked. But Wesley saw on the poster that it had subtitles and he was like no way.
“Aw, Shiz, I just wanna watch something. I don’t wanna read too, innit,” he said, when we were choosing our buffet. “I don’t wanna feel like I’m back at school.”
“Oh… S’alright,” I said. “I ain’t bothered.” I tried to pull my face like I wasn’t bothered but Wesley could see I was a bit so he paid the extra two quid a head so I could eat stuff from the duck section.
Like I say, he’s well lovely like that, is my Wesley.