White Hart (Liverpool Street)

Frances (Baby-Mildred) Houseman (Dirty Dancing)

So my real name is Mildred, so what. I didn’t ask to be called Baby did I!,..Course I didn’t, what do you take me for?! Only an idiot would want a noun for a name.

HE couldn’t get over it though could he,..liked the fact I was called “Baby”; that slimey little sleaze ball!!

So, I gave it to him didn’t I! I gave him “Baby” alright,..gave him a real one!….That’ll teach him…seven years for sweet talking a minor…..what a loser.

Still, it’s not like life has been a bed of roses for me either....

It is twenty years since I starred in the most watched film of all time. Twenty years! God, I hate thinking about it. The closest I get to Dirty Dancing these-days is when somebody pushes me over on the dirty dance floor. *that happens a lot*

,..42 lbs later and I’m here in London, having heard that there is plenty of cash to be made for an 80’s has-been on UK reality TV.

See, I wanna get my jaw wired, slim down, and make a fresh start…perhaps get a gig on one of those dancing shows..”So you think you can Dance” with Cat Deeley maybe? ”Dancing with the Stars?” Who knows! If it’s good enough for that Marie Osmond bloater, it’s good enough for me. I’ve arranged to meet a researcher to discuss.

So I took the tube from Tooting this morning; straight on up to the city. “Meet me in the White Hart” he says…"you’ll like it there…” How can he say that when he knows that I haven’t even seen the menu?!

I arrive early enough and start warming-up, just in case (you never know when the music will take over, or when you’ll need to bust an impromptu move!). I get a few strange looks from the young boy behind the bar but hey, he’ll soon see the logic,…once the juke box warms up and he realises who I am.

I check the menu whilst stretching; it looks reasonable, however, it’s the portion sizes that concern me, this country just doesn’t seem to understand portion sizes.

“You look like you want some chips?” says the barman

“Chips!? Chips!? Surely you mean French fries? And anyhow,.what are you tryin to say!?...Something about my appetite? My weight!? …..*calming* Yeah ok,.. French fries, biggest bowl ya got, plenny of ketchup…and a large Guinness.”

It’s an eternity till the fries arrive. But they’re here now, and I’m munching away, sitting in the corner, thinking about the portions back home, when in walks the researcher..

"Nobody puts baby in the corner.....!!!" *pointing at Mildred,..he has a huge grin on his face.*

“Wha...” What a jerk!

“Baby! Baby in the corner!! It’s me, Alan,..Alan the researcher….” *He pulls out a camera and starts taking pictures*

“Alan, oh, Hi…..enough already, with the pictures, I ain’t ready for that yet. Say Alan, what’s that under your shirt?”

*Alan pulls out a watermelon.*

“I carried a water melon…” he says and then bursts in to hysterical laughter.

“Oi, smiler” I notion to the boy behind the bar, standing straight-faced and un-amused, “another Guinness over here…and some more fries. Alan?”

“Malibu and pineapple please”

“Let’s go downstairs” says Alan *still sniggering*, “get out of this corner. It looks a little tight,..a little too cosy for you and besides, it'll get busy for the lunchtime rush in a minute,..may be best to get you out of the limelight?!”

I bite my lip, we wait for our drinks and steadily make our way downstairs…(I’m not so quick on my feet nowadays; my thighs chafe and I have to be careful not to trip over my leg warmers). I make sure the barman knows to send my fries downstairs too.

“So, what happened to YOU baby? You look like you’ve swallowed a watermelon!” *hysterical laughter ensues*…. “More of a jelly baby really…you are a watermelon!” *more laughter*

“Gee thanks Alan! I’ll have you know,  I've got thyroid trouble,..and you’re not exactly Johnny Castle yourself you know…!”

“LITERALLY hungry eyes these days huh?!” *Chuckles to himself* “Where is Johnny then, traded you in for a more nubile model?”

“Look tosser, I may have gained a little weight, but I can still hold my own on a dance floor, and as for Johnny; he couldn’t make it. He don’t go out so much no more, not since he came out of the slammer. Anyway, to cut to the chase - I was the real star of that film…It’s me the British public 'll want to see”

“Oh c’mon Jellybaby, You’ve let yourself go, you’re a mess. I thought that we could pull this around and maybe find an angle for the show, but I can’t see you doing the 'cha cha cha' with those suckers *points to south-bound breasts* can you? Bet you haven’t had “the time of your life” for a good 30 lbs! ha ha ha”

It’s time to show this moron what’s what.

Composing myself, I daintily cha cha cha away from the table. Taking a deep breath, I launch myself in to the air and hurl my body in the direction of an aging city type who has been giving me the eye since I arrived. A stumble and fall ensues, as he mis-reads my intention (for him to catch)…and pints fly. Alan is covered in Guinness (good). Someone, pushes him to the ground (good) As usual, I too, end up on the floor….The city type doesn’t seem to be breathing…..pinned underneath my heaving chest.

Alan gets to his feet and brushes himself down, his previous bonhomie has deserted him. “I think I’ve seen all I need to for this one….Rubbish.” He mutters…and goes to leave the pub.

“Come back you ....you...., what about my money, my jaw, photos, interviews, my weight, a burger…..a packet of dry roasted….?”

He’s gone. I brush myself down and congratulate myself on the stretches I did earlier which have probably prevented a serious injury as a result of my enthusiastic exertions.

Baby's rating for The White Hart 5/10
Baby's rating for The French Fries 10/10

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• Natural Selection,..

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