The hen’s night was in full swing when disaster struck.
Champagne had been consumed. The karaoke machine was blaring. And evil presented itself in the most unlikely of guises.
The Spice Girls.
Now, I unashamedly love the Spice Girls. Their songs are super catchy. Their harmonies are great. I consider the fact that none of them can ACTUALLY SING as further testament to their genius. And “if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends” is honestly one of the best pieces of relationship advice I’ve EVER HEARD. Seriously, I quote that all the time. Girls, if your boyfriend doesn’t make an effort with your friends, DUMP HIM! The Spice Girls told you so!
Now believe it or not, the Spice Girls are causing a lot of tension in our little brown brick house at the moment. And yes, I know this argument is about 20 years out-of-date. But the boys insist they hate the Spice Girls. And us girls LOVE them.
Now I reckon there are two types of people in this world: people who say they love the Spice Girls, and liars. Come on! EVERYONE LOVES THEM. I defy anyone to keep still during ‘Stop’, or ‘Spice World’ – it’s physically impossible!
But the boys won’t cave. We have had full-blown shouting matches in the house. And this is a group of people who haven’t had a single tiff about rent money, or the washing up, or who gets the smallest room (though maybe I should have piped up about that one). But if one of us girls dares to put on ‘Viva Forever’, shit goes down.
So, after years of dedication to the Girls Spice, it seemed unfair that they were the cause of my downfall at the hen’s do this past weekend. But here’s what happened. ‘Wannabe’ came on. We all squealed. I jumped up next to the bride-to-be to sing with her. She thought she’d share the mic. And when it got to, “I wanna HUH I wanna HUH I wanna HUH I wanna HUH”, she enthusiastically smashed the microphone into my mouth.
The good news: I still have all my teeth.
The bad news: there was a lot of blood. And two days later, I look like I’ve been in a bar fight. My fat lip is spectacular.
But you know what? It’s just a small battle wound in a long war. I’ll wear it with pride. And when I’m awarded some sort of Purple Platform Sneaker in honour of a lifelong commitment to Geri, Victoria, Mel B, Mel C and Emma, I’ll have a hell of a story to tell.
Now, listen. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.