OH CAROL!

I’m in the bath soaking away the ravages of my first week as David Cameron’s Maths Tsarina when the phone rings.

‘Carol, Carol – pick up if you’re there!’ It’s Janet, my agent and publicist, squealing like an excited child.  I grab a fluffy towel.

‘Janet, hi – what is it?’

‘Guess what!’

‘What?’

‘GUESS!’

‘Simon Cowell wants me to replace Louis on The X-Factor?’

‘But you know nothing about music?’

‘Didn’t stop me going on Buzzcocks, did it?

‘Nothing stops you going on TV.  How do you fancy being Rear of the Year?’

‘What do you mean “fancy”?’

‘Well, it’s yours if you agree to do the publicity?  Pippa Middleton’s connections turned it down.’

‘Second choice?’

‘Mary Nightingale said “no” too.’

‘OK - that’ll do. I’ll do it. Not bad for a woman of 50, eh?’

‘Your bum’s only five, though.  I’ll let them know right away.’

‘Who are “them”?

‘Wizard Jeans.’

‘Never heard of them.’

‘That’s why they’re sponsoring Rear of the Year. Bye.’

I look at myself in the full-length mirror – a few improvements here and there, a bit of Botox here, a bit of Polyfilla there (courtesy of my stint on Better Homes). Boob job? I couldn’t possibly say. 

I strut around my beautiful home sticking my backside out as far as I can, imagining my photo in the tabloids accompanied by ‘I’ll have one from the bottom, Carol!’

Every room is full of the products I’ve endorsed over the years from dishwashers to dog food, toasters to tampons.  Even the garden shed is full of Ariel. My MBE is displayed over the fireplace along with a photograph of me with Paul and Ian on Have I got news for you. The walls are covered in letters of gratitude from my charities; one thanks me for swapping vowels and consonants for bowels and incontinence – always makes my chuckle.  I’ve come a long way for a Yorkshire lass who’s good at sums.

As I place my award-winning arse in the swivel chair next to the computer to finish my latest book, I can’t resist checking the Rear of the Year website to see which other luminaries have been top of the bottoms: Nell McAndrew, Charlotte Church, Rachel Stevens, but what’s this?

I phone Janet back.

‘Janet, who’s the male Rear?’ I ask, hoping it’s Daniel  Craig or Jude Law, knowing we’ll be doing a photo session together.

‘Erm, Anton du Beke,’ Janet replies apologetically.

‘He’s spent the year dancing with Anne Widdecombe – anybody’s bum would look good next to that.’ 

I’m no fan of Anton after he beat me to the Hole in the Wall gig a few years back, but at least I’ll get the headlines.

‘Have you reminded Saga Holidays that I’m over fifty now?’ I say.

‘No. I’ll get onto it pronto. Bye.’

I return to my book: ‘Carol Vorderman’s Sudoku Detox’.  Sod it – what do they expect for £12.99? Triumphantly I type ‘THE END’.