As women went Natasha was OK. She’d do for the time being. She didn’t over nag and she wasn’t that demanding. She certainly wasn’t high maintenance like some other girl friends that could be mentioned. If the last one so much as winked at you it was a new pair of diamond studs for her gorgeous lobes. Natasha was quite good between the sheets, nothing to write home about, nothing too adventurous but you wouldn’t hurry to kick her out of bed. She was relatively happy with her lot. She had her own money and a job but not a fortune. She wasn’t always the prettiest girl in the room, but she scrubbed up well and you could count on her not to drop you in it or to say anything that would get you struck off the social register. She got on with your mother which was actually quite something even though she was N.Q.O.C. Your brother too but then he’d get on with anything you were going out with even if it had a broad Essex accent (actually especially if it had one). She’d always drive you home if drinking was the issue and although she was chatty with other men, she never over stepped the mark and you certainly wouldn’t find Natasha in the downstairs loo snogging with the sozzled host. She liked her food but didn’t over eat unless it was chocolate or olives. She could probably do with loosing a pound or two but didn’t think about going to the gym. Her taste in music was pretty similar to yours apart from the awful Take That thing and the music from the Missionary which was obviously a throw back to something from the past. She also liked East Enders which was fine as long as you didn’t have to watch it and she found Ricky Gervase funny when actually he was just an annoying little shit. Like Chris Evans.
Actually it was Chris Evans who brought things to a head. Natasha got up most mornings to go off to work and tuned in to the Breakfast Show on BBC radio two. She joined it at 7.00 every morning and just as the chirpy ginger headed DJ was starting up, Natasha was soaping down in the shower. The lather flow in both locations was full of froth. Over several weeks and months Natasha developed “a thing” for the DJ and “the thing” turned into a habit. Not a week day went by when she didn’t listen to the enthusiastic red head from his start to his finish. She would buy any and every newspaper and magazine that featured him and when his book came out she was third in the queue at the Waterstone’s signing and the store security staff had to ask her to move on after Chris Evans had said “Who shall I make this for?” and she’d replied “To Tache, the woman of my dreams.” Natasha became Chris Evans's stalker. She developed an unhealthy obsession. She hung onto his every word. She’d take time off work and go to the stores that he was opening. She’d wait for hours outside theatres and studios and Broadcasting House became as familiar to her as she was to its doorman. She went to his pub in the hope that he’d be there to serve her. The day she actually tipped over the top was when it was announced that Chris Evans was going to marry his new golfing girl friend also called Natasha. It was just too much. She grabbed the serrated bread knife and took a swing at me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so off hand about the news and my comment about a hole in one was probably misplaced. Anyhow the swinging bread knife missed my chest, thank God, carried on its forceful journey, glanced off the kitchen wall and finished its frenzied arc by impaling itself in the side of Natasha's neck. She’d stabbed herself in the jugular. I guess what I should have done was to call 999 right away. The paramedics could probably have stopped the bleeding if they had got to us in time. I didn’t. Natasha bled to death on the kitchen flagstones. It wasn’t my fault and you couldn’t really blame Chris Evans either even though it was his Breakfast Show.
She left a last Will and Testament which was rather unlike her. She wasn’t a great forward planner but had obviously made some recent arrangements in the light of her new attachment to Chris Evans. She was cremated and then in a private letter she had hand written to me, I had to get her on to the Breakfast Show with Chris Evans which wasn’t an easy task. I had some of her ashes of course and this was going to be the only way I could fulfil the request. I thought about posting them to the BBC but felt sure that there must be some sort of vetting system that prevented crank mail from reaching its target. I could have just left them in the plastic container they give you or tipped them in the garden or over the cliffs on that Coastal Path walk she loved so much. Every time I looked at Natasha in her little container I felt a twinge of guilt about not calling that ambulance soon enough. I felt that I really owed her something and besides if I didn’t carry out her instructions she wouldn’t leave me the £50,000 from her life insurance policy. It was £50,000 for me and £50,000 for her parents, which was very kind of her. However I had to provide proof to her lawyer that I’d done the deed. Getting her on the radio with Chris Evans wasn’t going to be that easy but I guess it was the least I could do for Natasha. So I thought about it. You couldn’t do something like that with his blessing. As wacky as he was, Chris Evans wasn’t going to let a complete stranger spread his ex-girl friend’s ashes over him in some macabre celebration. How would you do something like that without him knowing about it? That was the puzzle that got me thinking. I too started to listen to the show and it dawned on me that the DJ liked his grub. He talked about it, featured it quite a lot and so I hatched my plot. It actually wasn’t that difficult in the end. I sent round the new extra hot extra spicy pizza with its extra special dusted topping knowing that Chris Evans loved a food challenge and sure enough he tucked into the thing on air. So did Jonny and Lynn and Moira the news reader described the flavour as "interesting". My ex would have been ecstatic as Chris Evans raved about having Natasha for breakfast. I filmed and recorded the whole episode from start to finish so that I could prove Chris Evans had in fact had Natasha on the Breakfast Show. I wouldn’t have been able to do it for Natasha, wouldn’t have been able to get her quite so close to her hero had I not started going out with my new girl friend. She’s the producer on the Chris Evans Breakfast Show and she’s quite good at it too.
Actually it was Chris Evans who brought things to a head. Natasha got up most mornings to go off to work and tuned in to the Breakfast Show on BBC radio two. She joined it at 7.00 every morning and just as the chirpy ginger headed DJ was starting up, Natasha was soaping down in the shower. The lather flow in both locations was full of froth. Over several weeks and months Natasha developed “a thing” for the DJ and “the thing” turned into a habit. Not a week day went by when she didn’t listen to the enthusiastic red head from his start to his finish. She would buy any and every newspaper and magazine that featured him and when his book came out she was third in the queue at the Waterstone’s signing and the store security staff had to ask her to move on after Chris Evans had said “Who shall I make this for?” and she’d replied “To Tache, the woman of my dreams.” Natasha became Chris Evans's stalker. She developed an unhealthy obsession. She hung onto his every word. She’d take time off work and go to the stores that he was opening. She’d wait for hours outside theatres and studios and Broadcasting House became as familiar to her as she was to its doorman. She went to his pub in the hope that he’d be there to serve her. The day she actually tipped over the top was when it was announced that Chris Evans was going to marry his new golfing girl friend also called Natasha. It was just too much. She grabbed the serrated bread knife and took a swing at me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so off hand about the news and my comment about a hole in one was probably misplaced. Anyhow the swinging bread knife missed my chest, thank God, carried on its forceful journey, glanced off the kitchen wall and finished its frenzied arc by impaling itself in the side of Natasha's neck. She’d stabbed herself in the jugular. I guess what I should have done was to call 999 right away. The paramedics could probably have stopped the bleeding if they had got to us in time. I didn’t. Natasha bled to death on the kitchen flagstones. It wasn’t my fault and you couldn’t really blame Chris Evans either even though it was his Breakfast Show.
She left a last Will and Testament which was rather unlike her. She wasn’t a great forward planner but had obviously made some recent arrangements in the light of her new attachment to Chris Evans. She was cremated and then in a private letter she had hand written to me, I had to get her on to the Breakfast Show with Chris Evans which wasn’t an easy task. I had some of her ashes of course and this was going to be the only way I could fulfil the request. I thought about posting them to the BBC but felt sure that there must be some sort of vetting system that prevented crank mail from reaching its target. I could have just left them in the plastic container they give you or tipped them in the garden or over the cliffs on that Coastal Path walk she loved so much. Every time I looked at Natasha in her little container I felt a twinge of guilt about not calling that ambulance soon enough. I felt that I really owed her something and besides if I didn’t carry out her instructions she wouldn’t leave me the £50,000 from her life insurance policy. It was £50,000 for me and £50,000 for her parents, which was very kind of her. However I had to provide proof to her lawyer that I’d done the deed. Getting her on the radio with Chris Evans wasn’t going to be that easy but I guess it was the least I could do for Natasha. So I thought about it. You couldn’t do something like that with his blessing. As wacky as he was, Chris Evans wasn’t going to let a complete stranger spread his ex-girl friend’s ashes over him in some macabre celebration. How would you do something like that without him knowing about it? That was the puzzle that got me thinking. I too started to listen to the show and it dawned on me that the DJ liked his grub. He talked about it, featured it quite a lot and so I hatched my plot. It actually wasn’t that difficult in the end. I sent round the new extra hot extra spicy pizza with its extra special dusted topping knowing that Chris Evans loved a food challenge and sure enough he tucked into the thing on air. So did Jonny and Lynn and Moira the news reader described the flavour as "interesting". My ex would have been ecstatic as Chris Evans raved about having Natasha for breakfast. I filmed and recorded the whole episode from start to finish so that I could prove Chris Evans had in fact had Natasha on the Breakfast Show. I wouldn’t have been able to do it for Natasha, wouldn’t have been able to get her quite so close to her hero had I not started going out with my new girl friend. She’s the producer on the Chris Evans Breakfast Show and she’s quite good at it too.
Brilliant, I've missed your stories. x
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