My week: Cheryl Cole
Published 13/03/2016 | 02:30
Monday: Today's papers are full of pictures of Yours Truly with me head on the shoulder of that young fella from One Direction, even though I'm still officially married to that other French bloke with the long name. Ya know, the one they're saying wants three million quid off me to go away.
The lawyers told me to sign a pre-nup, but I was in love, like. Plus every time I tried to bring it up, he said he didn't speak Geordie.
I ring up Liam to ask if he's seen the pics, scribbling "Cheryl Payne" on me phone pad to see how it looks.
"It's you and me all the way now, babe."
"This is Louis," says the voice on the other end.
"You don't sound Irish."
"Tomlinson, not Walsh. I'm in One Direction too."
"Sorry, pet, I'm still having trouble telling yiz all apart." That's the problem of going out with members of a boy band. At least in Girls Aloud, we all had our own identities. There was the Irish one who always looked like she had a strop on; the ginger one; the, er, other two; and then there was me, aka The One Who Couldn't Sing But Yiz All Loved Cuz I Was Just So Doon To Earth.
I finally get through.
"They're saying it's a showmance, babe."
"A showmance - when you pretend to be going out together for publicity."
Like I don't have enough to do already. I'm rushed off me feet here. There's me nails to do, then I have another selfie to take.
"Some of the gossip columnists are even saying we're only staying together until the ratings start falling again on X Factor and then we'll have a big public bust-up to get more attention."
"Can the ratings get any worse?" wonders he. He's got a point. I'm told the last series even got lower figures than The Ray D'Arcy Show.
Whatever that is.
Tuesday: International Women's Day is always a big event in me calendar. It's like Mother's Day, except yiz don't have to lose your figure by having kids, because face it, lasses, your fella's only gonna end up shagging the nanny if you do.
I celebrate by posting a message to me six million followers on Twitter. I'm all about the solidarity with other women, me. Except for the one I clobbered in a nightclub toilet that time, but thankfully no one remembers her cuz she hasn't got her own perfume range.
Liam then does his bit for Project Cheryl by posting a picture of us on Instagram, telling everyone I'm his "favourite woman in the world". Angela Merkel must be reet gutted. Me soon-to-be ex-husband tries to spoil the mood by saying it's a stunt. I must get the lawyers to insert a gagging clause into that pay-off. He shouldn't air my private life in public. That's my job.
The haterz on social media soon have their knives oot, saying I'm old enough to be Liam's mother. What a cheek. He's only 10 years younger. Simon Cowell's 20 years older than me and if I was going out with that old goat no one'd bat an eyelid.
Actually, that's not a bad idea. If you say "Cheryl Cowell" in a Geordie accent, it sounds a bit like "Cheryl Cole". I'd be back where I started before all the daft name changes. Tweedie…. Cole… Fernandez-Versini… Payne.
Wednesday: The Queen knocks me off the front pages. Why's no one asked my views on Brexit? That's it, Your Majesty, this is war.
I make sure to be papped while I'm out on the toon with Liam. We bring me mam, to show the world that she approves of me new man.
Though she said that about the others too, so what does she know?
Thursday: The European Central Bank embarks on a huge programme of quantitative easing to squeeze me out of the headlines. The latest issue of OK! magazine restores me faith in humanity by asking when I'll leave Liam for Harry Styles. At least they didn't say Niall Horan. No one can quite believe he's a member of the biggest boy band in the world. Least of all Niall.
Now magazine also quotes an "insider" who says Liam has "dreamed of this since he was a teenager". That's only three years ago! "Cheryl is older, wiser and has been hurt a lot, so she's not able to let go in the same way," it continues.
Call me bonkers, but I think someone might be making up these quotes. They then give us the thumbs-up by saying the best way to get over someone is "to get under someone else".
Howay, man, there's no need for that. I'm all classy these days. I'm not like one of them girls off Geordie Shore, though Liam does say I'm his own Geordie Phwoar.
Aw, bless, don't kids say the cutest things?
Friday: I post a new message on Twitter, denying I was out for a "romantic dinner". That must be why I was holding hands with Liam and wearing a huge necklace with LOVE on it, right? Later, I post another message on Instagram, having a go at all the jealous little girl Directioners for not being happy for me.
"It's terrible how we don't get any privacy," I tell Liam later as we snuggle up next to the fire for a totally non-romantic night in.
"We could always stop teasing everyone and just say outright if we're really going out together," he suggests. I sigh disappointedly. I keep forgetting how much he still has to learn about the celebrity game.
* As imagined by Eilis O'Hanlon