I always feel like a dirty smelly scoundrel when I’m in Liverpool.
I got off the train at Liverpool Lime Street in my grey jogging bottoms, tan leather boots and checked shirt with toothpaste stains on the collar.
It looked like I’d stolen clothes from three different people’s suitcases and changed in the train toilet in the dark.
I arrived at my B&B where the lovely landlady opened the door in full make up, patent high heels, bright red nail extensions and a bleached blonde barnet. I said “Where are you going?” “Lidl” she replied
That evening I made my way to the Albert Docks where I was performing in the comedy club for the weekend. I sat at the back of the room and watched the women coming in.
It was cold, but this didn’t deter a girl from wearing a belt which doubled up as a skirt, and cellulite as an overcoat.
I do admire their courage.
Whilst on stage, men laughed and women stared at my shoes. A woman approached me afterwards. “Where did you get your shoes from luv?”
“Oxfam” I replied.
“You should ask for your money back, you’ve got two cracks in the sides. But what you could do is get some flour and water mix it together, stick it to the shoe and then get a pink glitter pen and colour it in. That’s what I did with one of my bras.
She carried on with her advice, “You should make the most of yourself, you’re quite pretty, just get yourself some fake tan and a nose job, and you’ll be great”.
I had to point out to her that being Asian I was already naturally brown and fake tan would just make me look like a chocolate muffin.
On arriving back in London, I bought myself new shoes, a good face scrub and had a thorough bikini wax. I do feel a lot better about myself. Thank God for Liverpool.