Love, Lipstick and Lies (11 page)

I met representatives from charities, including Mencap which campaigns for people with disabilities, to get their reaction to the Boyle comment. They firmly believed that it was no joke; it was bullying. As Sarah Bernard, Head of Communications at Mencap said, ‘Channel 4 claimed to be pushing the boundaries by airing such a comment, but Mencap believes that such jokes can lead to taunting, harassment and bullying of people with disabilities.’ There had been a tragic case in 2009 where a mother had committed suicide with her disabled daughter, setting their car alight, because they had suffered years of discriminatory abuse from a gang.

I met up with a group of young people with learning disabilities at a support group run by Mencap, to hear about their experiences. They all talked about how they had been bullied and called names, just because they had a disability. I felt so moved by their stories and how much they had been hurt by the cruelty of some people, it made me even more determined to stand up for the disabled.

I also invited a group of mums with disabled children over to my house, people I had known since Harvey was a baby, to get their views. As one of the mums said: ‘I’d like Frankie Boyle to spend a week in our shoes, looking
after a child with special needs, and then tell me if he finds a joke like that funny.’ And other mums talked about how isolating it can be having a disabled child because, as one said, ‘People don’t accept different and challenging behaviours, they think that it’s because the children are naughty or that we’re bad parents, and it has nothing to do with that. It’s because the child has a disability.’

I absolutely loved making the documentary. For a start it was on a subject that was close to my heart, and it was great feeling that I had helped to give a voice to disabled people who all too often don’t have one at all. In fact, I’d love to make more documentaries like that, ones that are serious but also entertaining. Because Harvey is autistic, I would find it really inspiring to make a programme about what it is like to bring up a child with autism and to find out more about the condition.

I had an amazing response from viewers after the programme, with a stream of emails, tweets and letters. Some people saw me for the first time as a mum, and saw a different side to me. I’m really proud of the documentary. It was repeated on Sky and they said it was one of the highest-rated shows they’d ever had.

One more thought on Boyle. I see he sued the
Daily Mirror
over an article that he felt described him as racist, and won. I am sure he is not a racist and can see why he would be upset by being called one. But why then does he think it’s okay to be discriminatory about the disabled? Why would people thinking that of him not
upset him just as much? Years ago comedians who made jokes now accepted as racist were given air time on TV, but society has moved on and there are now strict laws in place to deal with racial discrimination. I don’t think the disabled enjoy the same protection, when of course they should. I believe in years to come those who make Boyle-style jokes about the disabled will be viewed in the same way as those dinosaurs who made racist jokes years ago.

* * *

I’m always up for doing things for charity on TV, and in March 2011 I was in
Let’s Dance for Comic Relief
. I had to dress up as Freddie Mercury in his iconic video to ‘I Want to Break Free’, where he is in drag as a kinky housewife. So I was going to be a woman, dressed up as a man, dressed up as a woman … To be honest the costume was the least of my worries. Everyone who knows me, knows that I can’t dance.

We had one week to rehearse and I was working myself up into a complete state because I couldn’t do the moves! And I was going to be on live TV! I can go on live TV and talk about myself, but dance? The choreographer kept telling me to be more exaggerated about my moves and really perform. Easier said than done to someone with two left feet …

I did look hilarious in the costume, wearing a bouffant black wig, moustache, full make up, fake body hair and a PVC skirt and pink top. I didn’t care that I
looked like a complete twat. The lovely Graham Norton, who was one of the judges, said after my performance, ‘I love you, Katie Price, that was just fearless.’ Somehow I managed to get a place in the final, but then I was knocked out. The whole experience was really good fun and it was brilliant to help raise money for charity. I especially enjoyed doing the little sketch before my routine where I took the piss out of myself for having so many products out in my name. See? I really don’t take myself too seriously.

On 17 April Leo and I flew back out to Argentina. I paid for us both to fly first-class. I thought then that he acted as if he was very used to this life-style and seemed to sit back on the flight as if he was a king, expecting to be waited on, but I didn’t care because I was so into him.

On this visit we were going to meet his parents. I remember how I felt on the plane as we flew out: convinced that Leo and I were good together. I must have been pretty confident about his feelings for me as I changed into the onesie that my brother had bought me for Christmas – though it’s true to say I always change into something comfortable for a flight, especially one that’s sixteen hours long. It’s okay, I changed out of it before we landed, and upped the glamour stakes in a pair of skin-tight leggings and a silver sequined jacket
and heels. And of course the celebrity must-have – a huge pair of designer shades so the paps didn’t catch me blinking or squinting or generally looking shit.

I had found out that Leo’s dad Hector had been a politician, and his mum Mercedes had been a beauty queen. Again, I got the feeling that Leo came from quite a posh family and that the girls he usually went for would be like the ones in
Made In Chelsea
, all born with silver spoons in their mouths and living off Mummy and Daddy. Apparently in Argentina, when the press reported on Leo and me getting together, they seemed to think that I was a posh girl too. Well, they had that a bit wrong, hadn’t they? Someone hadn’t done their research …

I was really looking forward to meeting them, as well as feeling a little apprehensive because I really wanted them to like me. Leo seemed very close to his parents and I didn’t want them to think that I was too old for him, or that because I already had children, he shouldn’t get involved with me. Mind you, I had just found out that Leo had a five-year-old daughter himself. He told me that he’d been seeing the mother for two months when he was twenty and then they split up, it hadn’t been a serious relationship. Afterwards she’d turned up to see him at his parents’ house and told him she was pregnant and that the baby was his. He told her that he wasn’t ready to be a dad, and that he was moving to Buenos Aires to pursue a modelling career. He saw the baby girl when she was born but I think at first he
didn’t have anything to do with her; it was only later that he wanted her to have his surname, and started paying maintenance. I suppose I was glad that he had a child, because then he might be able to understand better what it was like for me being a mum, but I didn’t think it sounded great that he hadn’t been involved in his daughter’s life … However, I put that down to his being too young at the time.

His parents lived in Córdoba, a mountainous region 700 kilometres north-west of Buenos Aires. I was blown away by their place: a ranch in the heart of beautiful countryside, surrounded by fields and mountains and horses. I loved it! Everyone made me feel so welcome, even though neither Leo’s parents nor his sisters spoke a word of English … and I really mean not a word. And there was no one to translate on that first meeting as I had wanted it to be private, without the cameras. But I can honestly say it wasn’t a problem. I had a really good time. Again I got the feeling that what Leo and I had was special, and that his family was every bit as important to him as mine was to me.

Wow, the life-style there was right up my street! So much of it was spent outdoors. We ate outside, and all Leo’s nieces and nephews played round us and then jumped on their ponies and went off for a ride. Later he and I joined them. I felt so free there, I loved being surrounded by so much space, and the scenery was beautiful. I thought how much I would like my kids to visit this place; they would absolutely love the space
and being able to play outside. I had felt increasingly hemmed in back in the UK, where although I had a reasonable-sized garden there were no open fields. Whenever we went out of the front gate we ran the risk of being photographed by the paps who lurked in the road, waiting for a chance to snap us. I wanted my children to be able to roam and have adventures in a safe place. Leo’s family even had a horse and cart. It all reminded me a bit of
The Waltons
, because the whole place seemed to be set back in time, when there was a slower pace of life. And there wasn’t a pap with a long-lens camera in sight! I really felt that I fitted in there. It was just my kind of lifestyle. I am a complete country girl at heart.

The following day I went out for lunch with Leo and his parents. He wanted me to see the scenery round Córdoba and so we booked into a restaurant two hours’ drive away. It was a spectacular journey, through fields, hills and mountains. But there was a nasty surprise waiting for us when we arrived at the remote hilltop restaurant that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The paps had somehow found out and were waiting for us there. I bloody hate some of them, the worst are real parasites! I’d had three lovely days without them and really didn’t want them getting pictures of this private time. And so I got the waiter to take pictures of us all having lunch and immediately posted them on my Twitter page. Screw those paps who were trying to make money out of me. But it had been strange that they had
turned up there … someone must have tipped them off. Now I wonder if it might even have been Leo.

I was learning that he was something of a daredevil, an adrenalin junkie. It was a bit like being with Action Man because he always wanted to be out there doing something: riding his quad bike, horse riding, generally testing and pushing himself. He played polo and had been to military school, so he was good at shooting. He went motor-cross riding, had a skateboard with an engine that could go to 40 m.p.h. and would race on it against his friends. He was like a good-looking Jackass! And while I am a bit of a daredevil and thrill-seeker myself, and love all those scary rides at amusement parks, there are some things that I’m genuinely scared of. Heights, for instance. Leo wanted us to go sky-diving.

‘Yeah, I’m up for it!’ I said, all blasé, like it was no big deal. When I appeared in
I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!
I even had it written into my contract that I wouldn’t have to parachute out of the helicopter, as the rest of the contestants had to, because I am so scared of heights. But there was something about Leo that made me feel safe and protected and believe that I could do anything.

But when it came to it, I was shitting myself! First of all we had to run through the safety procedures, and all the time in my head I was thinking, I can’t do it, I just can’t do it. Leo’s mum and dad had come to watch us make the jump and that made me feel that I had to do it, to prove myself and not let Leo down. No one could
speak English on the plane and I actually thought I was going to have a panic attack. My legs had turned to jelly and I could feel my breathing getting shallower – a sure sign of a panic attack approaching. No one else seemed to realise the state I was in. My instructor tapped me on the shoulder and said cheerfully, ‘Okay, one minute.’ That is, one minute before I jumped out of a plane at twelve thousand feet … what was I doing here! I must have been stark raving bonkers ever to agree to this, I thought.

‘I can’t do it,’ I exclaimed, ‘I just can’t.’

‘Yes, you can,’ Leo told me confidently. I don’t think he realised how genuinely petrified I was. And then I was being flung out of the plane, strapped to my instructor and plunging down, down, down, down. It was absolutely terrifying. An experience I never want to repeat. When we landed, the adrenalin was still pumping through me and I remember saying, ‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ over and over again. I didn’t even know what I felt. Relief that I had made it above all. I think I impressed Leo’s parents though. But bloody hell, there have to be easier ways! I would rather have taken everyone out for dinner … And that wasn’t the end of my extreme sports. On another day we went paragliding off a cliff. I felt physically sick and could hardly bear to look down at the ground, far below us. But I also felt a great sense of achievement. And at the end of the ordeal I had Leo to hug me and tell me that he loved me.

I’m definitely much happier on horseback than
flinging myself out of a plane and there was plenty of riding when we were away. On one ride we met up with this Indian guy who was, I was told, chanting for an eagle to come, and playing panpipes as we rode up the mountain. I’ve absolutely no idea what was going on. I kept looking at the cameraman and raising my eyebrows, mouthing, ‘What the fuck is this?’ But Leo told me to ‘shush’ and that I had to respect the man. Of course that only made me want to laugh more. I’m just not into all that mystical stuff like some people are; I can’t lose myself in it. I was all too aware that I was on a ride with a man who seemed to be bonkers, calling out crap. However, when we reached the summit and he was still chanting, the herd of cattle up there suddenly moved and huddled close together. Everyone dismounted and began searching on the ground. Apparently they were looking for an eagle feather. Suddenly there was a shout of excitement and the Indian guy held up a black feather. This was what all the fuss had been about. A black eagle feather is very rare. He insisted on giving it to Leo and me, and told us that it would bring us luck. I thought nothing of it really and when we drove back Leo tucked it behind the passenger mirror. I didn’t know then but in a couple of days we would need all the luck in the world …

Another time we went on an amazing horse trek. It was supposed to be a five-hour ride, but it ended up being fourteen hours in the saddle. I have never ridden for that long, ever. It felt like being in a Western as
we rode up the mountains on surfaces I didn’t think horses could even walk on. The terrain was incredibly stony and steep. It took us five hours to get to the top of the mountain and, while I was relieved finally to dismount, I couldn’t help thinking that we were going to have to ride back again … We had a massive barbecue – the Argentinians really do like their meat – and as I watched them laying out chunks of it on the grill, I thought it didn’t look very appetising. It definitely wasn’t anything like the cuts you buy in Sainsbury’s, already neatly chopped up and packaged. Just as well I wasn’t a vegetarian! I tucked in when it was served up as I was starving. I’d already seen how Leo and his family would drive out into the countryside in a truck when it was dark and hunt rabbits, which would then be cooked in a stew. This was proper country living.