Me Life Story by Scarlett Moffatt (best classic books of all time txt) 📗

I have always been a massive fan of zombies, thanks to my dad – well, ‘fan’ is the wrong word. I’ve been ‘made aware’ of zombies since a young age. My dad is convinced that movies are there to prepare us for what’s about to happen. So there is an increase of alien movies at the moment as aliens have already made contact and the government is going to have to introduce us all to them soon. Same as the increase in zombie shows. My dad is prepared for what could be a zombie apocalypse.

I told this story on Channel 4’s Sunday Brunch. ‘So my dad is ready for the zombie takeover to happen in our lifetime. He has stored tins of food, a hot stove, bottles of water, a first-aid kit, a radio and old welding masks in our attic. I haven’t got a clue why we need the masks, like, and how much use they will be, like – but we are prepared. We have also had a chat – me, Dad, Mam and Ava – about our exits and where we would flee to. We are pretty sure we would lose my mam along the way as she has said she probably will give up within the first twenty-four hours.’

When I got home from filming Sunday Brunch, my dad was really quiet.

‘Do you fancy a brew, Dad?’

‘Nah, you’re all right.’

‘You OK with me, Dad? You seem quieter than usual.’

‘Not really, kid. What did you say that on Sunday Brunch for, man?’

‘Sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’

‘Embarrass me?’

‘Well, yeah, is that why you’re upset?’

‘No, I’m annoyed. I mean now when the zombie apocalypse happens everyone knows to come to our house. Come on, Scarlett, think about things before you speak. We haven’t got enough supplies for everybody.’

And it’s conversations like that with my dad that made me miss him so much in the jungle. He is one of a kind. I was so happy I had been given such an amazing bunch of people to share my I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! experience with, because I knew my mam and dad didn’t have to have any moments where they felt upset watching me. If I’m happy, they’re happy.

So like I said, we were all having such a great time in camp, being a tight little team, having a giggle, winning loads of stars in the trials. That was until Martin Roberts (from Homes Under the Hammer) and Danny Baker came in to camp to stir things up. And yep, shit hit the fan.

Now Danny Baker was who I wanted to win and he is a man I have a lot of respect for. He is pure genius and I had watched his work in action on TFI Friday with that lovely tangerine-haired man Chris Evans when I was little. Martin, on the other hand, well, me and him got off on the wrong foot. I don’t know if it’s because I asked if Homes Under the Hammer was like Changing Rooms and did they go into every house and stencil the kitchen and laminate throughout, or whether it was just because our personalities clashed. I now think he is just really misunderstood and he is completely harmless. I think at first I just found it a shock at how negative and snappy he was. He didn’t get my sarcastic humour. But honestly towards the end of our experience he was one of the people I enjoyed spending time with the most.

I remember one night Lisa Snowdon made him some beans and rice on the little hotplate we had been given. Mind, dry beans and rice with no condiments and nothing but lukewarm river water to wash it down with is utterly vile. The beans are completely tasteless and have the texture of dry rabbit droppings. The rice is like eating tiny shards of flavourless glass. And the lukewarm water tastes like plastic as it has been melting in the canisters all day. But hey, it’s better than nothing.

The reason we were cooking on a hotplate and not the camp fire was because our team had been banished to the top of the hill. Our groups had been separated, and the other team were eating ostrich steak. You could smell it from our camp, and I was like, ‘Oh God, what I’d do to that ostrich steak right now.’

Lisa appeared with our beans and rice. ‘Here you go, Martin.’

‘It’s fine, Lisa, I don’t want any.’

‘What do you mean? You’ll be hungry.’

‘No, I’ll just wait for the food to come.’

‘This is the food.’

‘No, when they switch the cameras off.’

‘Martin, people don’t lose a stone in here for nothing. Plainly this is all we eat. There are no Mars bars being dropped in.’ I was crying with laughter; he had me in stitches. It made me completely forget about being hungry because I couldn’t focus on anything else but wetting myself from laughing.

I felt for Martin, I really did. Plus he was a latecomer and was a big tea drinker like me. The headaches you get from caffeine and sugar withdrawal, eugh. Larry, bless him, would boil hot water and just give it to you in a cup, so you felt like you were drinking tea. So you were just drinking hot water, but it was nice just sitting on your bed holding your cup. Me, Martin and Wayne Bridge would often pretend to be eating biscuits with our cup of hot water – imitating dunking a digestive biscuit smothered with chocolate. I would have eaten a bucket full of kangaroo testicles if it meant I could have been given a packet of chocolate Hobnobs. It was during this role-play that me and Martin had the most political conversation the camp had ever witnessed.

‘What’s your favourite biscuit to dunk?’

‘I love a custard cream.’ Jordan peeped out from his hammock.

‘Nah, it’s all about the chocolate digestive, plain and simple,’ Bridgey chipped