..... I was deeply moved this evening by "Jean Claude-Van Dame: Behind Closed Doors". Not sure what TV channel it was on, but should be the programme of choice for any man approaching 50. Jean Claude wasn't to be found wearing cardigans, filling out his subscription to Readers' Digest, fondling bulbs at the local garden centre, or stocking up on Werther's Originals. No, Jean Claude had booked himself a fight against an Olympic Gold medallist in Boxing. That's how they described the guy, but when we caught a glimpse of him, he looked very much like the bus driver on the 123 from Wood Green to Ilford.
Anyway, JC (that's what his family call him) was obviously in peak condition and I'm sure the MRI scan he had after agonising hip pain was nothing to worry about. Bizarrely, he must have been attended by a hairdresser rather than a nurse, as when he emerged from the scanner, his thin light brown hair had grown dark and lush. Let's hope this crossover of occupations doesn't result in someone at the hairdressers being treated to an enema. Note to self: get hair cut before I visit Belgium.
The next stage of JC's intensive training programme involved him visiting Ukraine Fashion Week. An essential stop for anyone due to fight an Olympic Boxer/Bus Driver in two weeks' time. Kiev welcomed him like a long lost son and he explained he was there to enjoy the clothes. Ironic as he was in his underpants for much of the programme. He was so keen, he made his way directly to the models' dressing room to see the clothes before the naked girls had even put them on.
And, should there be any chance of the viewer nodding off, then every five minutes we were treated to a shot of a tanned JC in his underpants, cuddling a chihuahua to his left breast and punching the camera with his right fist. I recognised the chihuahua. It's now dyed pink and living with Paris Hilton.
Over excited by the clothes and throwing caution to the wind, JC invited all the Press from the fashion show to his 50th birthday party later that night. I presume he didn't think they'd turn up (although it's Kiev, right?), because when they did he begged them to leave him alone. Inside he sought anonymity by sitting directly in front of a female singer dressed in a net curtain body stocking singing Happy Birthday. Think Eurovision Song Contest, the Ukraine and Martin McCutcheon's 'This is My Moment' and you could be there with him.
After returning to Brussels, it was time for reflection. His son, Christian, summed it up. "I'm glad I'm here for him and hmmmmmm, he's here for me." I was there for both of them. Having seem JC in his underpants at last 20 times during the past hour and a full frontal of his chihuahua, I was family.
No comments:
Post a Comment