Stanley Park

God, check out those pins.

Oh, sh*t. Have we started? Right.

Erm... Once upon a time,

there were a 17-year-old girl

who, even after staying

out all night, were drop-dead fit.

That girl was moi.

One Debbie Robinson.

Sixth form student

and undiscovered fashion designer

with a sideline in erotic novels.

Currently penning my latest

offering, The Spaniard Barman.

Having just spent

the night with one.

And this is Stanley Park.

The centre of my Croydon life.

Here I'd lost my virginity

on the swings and my

dignity under the slide.

But there were greater losses

to come in this story.

And where Stanley Park

was my playground,

Stanley Place was my catwalk.

For t'were true,

my eyegrabbing dresses

always put me in't spotlight.

Cos not bein' up meself,

but they are bloody gorgeous!

See? Told you so.

But do bear in mind,

it takes someone like me

to pull off a dress like this.

The neighbours love it.

It's like witnessing

a sexual tsunami.

God, Rob. Take a picture,

it might last longer.

Poor Julie, though.

It's the wives I feel sorry for.

That's their son, checking me out.

All right, gorgeous?

And that there were an

invitation into his pants.

I'd have taken out

a mortgage to live in those.

Cruel!

He were one hot bastard.

And there's his brother - Lee.

You can't see that low, but he's

probably knockin' one out cos he's

got a thing for her. Raggedy Ann.

Hag to local fag, Bent Ben.

What you got?

High School Musical 3 Singstar with

microphones. It's not for me!

Look at them,

wishing they were me. Yeah, hiya!

They're both virgins.

Raggedy Ann's savin'

herself for Lee.

And Ben, well, he says he's

savin' himself for Penelope Cruz.

More like Tom Cruise.

And this is chez Debbie.

I came to live here with me

Auntie Pat three year ago.

From the moment I arrived,

I knew this place had trouble

written all over it.

Auntie Pat had independence,

wisdom and a lust for life.

A modern-day Aphrodite -

in Primark wet-look leggings.

We were like sisters.

Taking each other's reins.

That said, you can lead a horse to

water, but you can't stop it chain-

smokin' during aerobic exercise.

SHE COUGHS:

You all right, Auntie Pat? You're

having a right cough-up in here.

I won't lie, I'm not great. Flu?

No. Superkings.

You're workin' out a lot lately.

Nothing to do with a certain singles

page left open on the internet?

I don't know what

you're talkin' about.

Come off it.

Darlin'...

I cruise the net, yeah?

Not for a relationship. For sex.

You know me. That's all I want.

Whether it's in the toilet

at the Harvester or a

cliff top near Beachy Head

or the wardrobes

of an Ikea showroom.

Which Harvester?

Oh, the retail park. Look, did I go

for a quattro formaggio last night

with a man I met on the internet?

Yes.

Did he have a comb-over and look

like a paedophile? Yes, again.

I walked out. He was too needy.

Big deal. So, what did you

get up to last night?

You didn't stay for breakfast?

No! I bolted as soon as I woke up

and realised he was spoonin' me.

Creep.

Anyway...

I've got my eyes on a much bigger

prize. Oh, yeah?

Anyone I know?

If I smoke and only eat

when I'm faint, I'm

bound to drop a dress size.

Harry, do you remember

Danielle's wedding?

Honestly, she looked like a pork

pie in a Barbie dress. Oh, lovely.

Ain't it a bit early for all this?

It's after lunch.

Drink the Lambrini.

It's a celebration.

Oh, Julie. When he ordered wine

last night, I should have known

he was going to propose.

Although technically I didn't.

Yes, you did. No, you said,

"Are we ever going to get married?"

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