FADE IN:
Camera flashes pop and crowds cheer as Lola Love, scriptwriter, director and leading lady of the fantastically fabulous and now, Oscar-winning movie, Livinâ la vida Lola! works the raspberry pink, sparkle dust carpet in a customised sequinned vest and tutu combo, sparkly-pink pumps and what have now become her signature pink-tinted shades.
Itâs a look that could easily of made her a muse for Andy Warhol. Fact.
She flashes a mega-watt grin at the cameras, holds up the gold statue with fit-to-bursting pride and works a few practised poses for the camera. Lola smiled to herself, thinking how it was good to know that the entire weekends she had spent watching back-to-back re-runs of Americaâs Next Top Model had not gone to waste.
âLola! Lola Love! You look awesome!â
The super-hot Americano entertainment TV presenter, Brad Bradston, is calling her name.
âSo Lola, how does it feel to be the first ever 14 year old to win an Oscar for writing, directing and starring in your own movie?â
âBrad,â Lola replied, flicking her pink hair and causing a killer breeze with a single blink of her long, fake eyelashes, âit feels blimminâ brilliant! Can I just say a big, huge thank you to Eva Satine and the Negative Ninas, because without them⦠well, this would never, ever have been possible!â
Lola turns to the crowd and signals to her pink-jacket wearing girlfriends to come join her on the raspberry pink sparkle-dust carpet. The feisty, fun, fearless and fabulous Pink Ladies walk towards the camera arm in arm, working the carpet like one long fashion-week catwalk.
CUT TO: Evil Eva Satine and her gum smackinâ clique.
Eva is mid-manicure and the Negative Ninas are grooming themselves each other like monkeys in the zoo. Their petite bee-hinds are perched on Evaâs over-sized princess bed and they are all staring at the TV.
At the Oscars.
At Lola Loveâ¦
Theyâre watching Lola on the TV screen.
Open-mouthed.
Eva is shocked and stunned and lets out an ear-piercing, glass shattering wail.
âNo WAY!â
FADE OUT.
I heart movies.
My top 5 favourites are:
Breakfast at TiffanyâsâAudrey Hepburn is a goddess-girl. Fact.
Amelieâsheâs a total Ooh-la-la magic girl. Jâadore.
Ghost Worldâthis film makes me feel just that little bit less alone in the world.
Pretty in PinkâI heart the colour pink. I heart Molly RIngwald. I especially heart her 80s wardrobe, itâs the stuff of retro-girl dreams.
Any movie starring Marilyn Monroeâit would be rude to pick just one, and as Iâm not a rude girl, I wonât.
Now, while it maybe true that I have a touch of the drama queen about me, I am absolutely not over-reacting when I say that, right now, if my life were a movie, it would be the straight-to-DVD kind.
It would be called Welcome to Sucksville, there would be absolutely no drama/suspense/romance or even comedy it would lack any amount of drama, the supporting cast would be noticeably absent and there would be nothing, I repeat, nothing that even remotely resembled a plot.
My life is not sweet.
Iâm a fourteen-year-old, should-be starlet, with a reflection that rudely disagrees. I mean, seriously, with a name like Lola Love youâd think Iâd have an access all areas, VIP insta-pass to the fabulous world of silver screen fabulousness, wouldnât you? Turns out, not so much. Iâm a fourteen-year-old, should-be starlet, with a reflection that rudely disagrees.
Yâsee, there are a number of factors standing in the way of my life being a glitter-globe snow-shaker of absolute fabulousity.
These are just a few of the reasons why my name is not currently flashing neonâ¦
1. I donât have a movie-girl-esque complexion
Starlets have flawless skin. I do not. In fact, the only remotely star-like thing about my face right now is that the entire constellation of Orion is very clearly visible on my entire left cheek.
2. Iâm awkward looking
Like, really awkward looking Movie stars are picture perfect. I am not. My eyes arenât symmetrical. No matter how many times my mum tells me Iâm making it up, if you look really closely, you can clearly see that my left eye is slightly higher than the right. Thatâs wrong. I have freckles that are sometimes visible and sometimes not. They decide.
I have mousy brown hair that never, ever does what it should. It just hangs around my shoulders, all limp and uninterested, like the arm of a super-cute boy who doesnât actually want to be there.
(Sadly, I am not basing the above statement on my own extensive experience of super-cute boys.