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Joe fired back, a wicked grin on his face. ‘Mind yer own bloody business,’ then after more laughter, ‘just kidding, and you’ll find out soon enough because with the help of two very special people, I’m finally gonna stop being a lazy git and write my autobiography.’
Oliver now had his head in his hands, not that Joe noticed because he was on a roll. ‘I need someone with brains in their head to write the words and I know just the lady, and my lad over there’s going to provide the pictures, mainly of me in my underpants or walking the dogs. It’ll be the story of my life. Farts, warts, hairy arses, what I have for my tea, who makes it, all the gory stuff you nosey bastards have wanted to know for years. I’m going to tell you everything, even stuff you never knew and will probably make your hair curl. That’s what me old mam used to say when she had a bit of gossip… God love her.’
Oliver looked like he was going to cry and when Ace glanced over at his family, they were all in fits of laughter because, like him, they knew Joe was on one, and loving every minute of it. It was at this point, panic-stricken Oliver attempted to wind things up.
‘Okay folks, I think that’s all for today. Everyone, if you’d like to take your last shots…’ He was interrupted by Joe who’d raised his hand and all eyes focused on the big guy himself.
‘Hold yer horses, Ollie, I haven’t finished yet. There’s something I want to say.’ He then pointed to a cameraman who was wearing a baseball cap. ‘Oi, mate, hat-man – is that thing switched on?’ The cameraman laughed and gave Joe the thumbs up.
Ace’s heart was in his mouth, and he quickly looked over to Lance who shook his head, clearly as bemused as he, and then to Edie whose eyes were wide, asking ‘what’s he going to say now?’ They were about to find out.
Looking straight into the camera, Joe leant further forward; the hush was unprecedented, and expectation in the room was off the scale, Ace could feel it zipping through the air. ‘I’m sorry, Ollie, mate, for going off on one, but there’s something I need to say to all the people out there who’ve been upset, or angry about the stuff they’ve read in the papers or seen on the telly. It wasn’t nice, in fact a lot of it was bloody awful, shameful. I’m talking about me now, not the lads here,’ he gestured to Steve and Chaz, ‘this isn’t about them. It’s just me, talking to you.’
Everyone waited as Joe scratched his whiskers, thought a minute before speaking. ‘When I started off in this game I was seventeen, a big daft lad from Manchester who dreamt of fame and fortune, having a private box at the football, getting pissed and laid a lot and thanks to a lot of luck, plus my immense talent and good looks,’ he paused a second while the laughs from the stalls died down, ‘when I was twenty-three, my dream came true.
‘But it’s come at a cost and that’s what I want to say sorry for; the things I regret, the stuff I can’t change. I took too many drugs and that was fucking stupid so any kids watching this, don’t be a dick like me, okay?’ He pointed his finger at the camera, talking to a boy or girl he’d never get to meet but hoped was listening. ‘I drank too much, too, and it’s not a good look. It rots your brain and other important bits so listen to your mams and dads cos they’re right.’
Joe paused and Ace sensed that his dad was about to blow the room up. ‘But this is the hardest part to say, the bit that hurts me the most, kills me right here,’ he touched his chest, ‘it’s the chance that somewhere along the line I might have broken someone’s heart, that I might have slept with a lady, many ladies who I can’t remember, not their faces, or their names, where we were or what we did and that’s bad.
‘I’m so pissed off with that daft lad, the bloke I was, for sleeping around, being so out of it on one thing or the other, for being the person I wouldn’t want my sons to be, or the kind of man my daughter or granddaughter could meet.’
Ace’s heart lurched and mutters filled the room, people asking questions under their breath which Joe ignored.
‘But as much as I admit to all that, I want you to know this. I would never knowingly hurt a woman. On my life, from my heart, as God is my witness. I just wouldn’t. And I wish I could change the past, put things right, start over but I can’t. So, if there’s anyone out there that I made sad, if I made you cry or let you down, please know this.
‘The fact I can’t remember your name, or your face or where we were or what we did, that is my shame, not yours. It’s my fall from grace, my burden to carry, not yours. Hold your head up high and know that I am so very, very sorry and if I can, through Venus, I will try to make it right.’
