Gráinne's Dream Boy

Do you want to know how exhausting temping full time, gigging every night and trying to support myself on minimum wage when I first moved to London was? 

You know how some animals develop destructive coping mechanisms under stress: picking at their fur, pecking their arms...well I found the temping grind so bleak, the only way I got through it was to dissociate and disappear to an alternative fantasy life where I was a married to Jim Davidson in a small village in Kent.

 
 

This wasn't a one-off flight of fantasy, this was a regular branch of the multiverse I checked into at random times of the day, for months. 

Listen folks, you can't shame shame.

For those who don't know, Jim Davidson is a “stand up” “comedian” “broadcaster” and the charges have been “dropped”. He was a star of light entertainment until the 90s when his cheeky chappie persona finally imploded. He and his racist, misogynistic, jingoistic, smug, arrogant stupidity represents everything I hate in this world and my moral compass is defined in opposition to it. And yet, and yet, in my weakest moments, it sang to me, it called out to me, like a siren's song over waves of anxiety and late rent payments. 

Now I’m in a healthier place. I have a real boyfriend, I don't have to temp and never have to go to Swindon ever again. So I can let Jim go. My life is good enough that I don't sometimes space out and imagine I’m at a marina in Portsmouth with Jethro and Jim looking for somewhere that does steaks. I never thought I’d say that. 

Sometimes though, at night, in my dreams, I return. I go back...



...I’m at one of his gigs in a Corn Exchange in Essex. He doesn't know I’m coming. I sneak in, he’s on stage doing what he does best, insulting the women in the front row. We’re all having a laugh, but then he spots me, his voice cracks and the persona breaks.

“It’s my little Irish Rose, she's come to say goodbye, my lucky heather. Who knew the biggest break of all would be my heart? Now I know how The Belgrano felt.”

“Goodbye Jim” I say, standing up, “goodbye.” 

I toss a single rose at the stage and then disappear back into the darkness. 



I wake up with a start. I look over at my sleeping boyfriend and jolt him awake.

“Listen, there’s something you need to know. There might be times when the printer isn't working, or I’ve lost my bank card or I'm hungry and there’s nothing in the fridge I like...I might accidentally call you Piers Morgan. If I do, please just ignore it.”



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Gráinne Maguire