“Whilst we were being escorted and tugged across the English Channel by the French Navy, a whimsical thought popped into my head. As I’m an economic migrant and thus a fake asylum seeker, why not become a fake pop star as well? Bing! Bong! Zang! Zin! The image of Gary Barlow appeared in my head like a large, bulbous turd being pushed out of an elephant’s arsehole! I want to become like him when they put me up in a five-star hotel with all the trimmings,” Abdul Razid Hamed from Paris, France recalled the other day.
Back in the five-star hotel in Hull, Hamed was auditioning dancers for his show as he sang to the hotel staff.
“Listen, Igomo, put the pizza down for a second, don’t they have pop groups in the Congo? Oh dear, this is not very good, is it. You’re meant to pirouette, like Robbie Williams did when he was in Take That.”
All this auditioning and practice was taking a toll on everyone, it was time to order more room service.
“I’ll have the fillet steak with chips, and bring that wonderful red wine you brought last time, yes, the 97. For dessert, I would like the Knickerbocker glory because that’s what Gary would have, wouldn’t he?”
The fake asylum seeker group then decided for a long swim in the luxurious indoor heated pool and a massage session to let the creative juices of pop stardom ruminate a little further.
“‘Ere have you seen the lady that does the massages? She looks like Posh Spice, she does. I’m going to ask her whether she can do a happy ending. Eh, if she refuses, I’ll get one anyway, because we’re immune from prosecution, innit,” a smiling Abdul added as he slathered baby oil over himself and his erection hurriedly.
