Last month, friend of Big Balls Derek Acorah made some bold claims to the press about the current whereabouts of missing child Madeleine McCann. The subsequent media backlash was severe, and Derek immediately went into hiding. The evening after The Sun broke the McCann story, I received a largely incoherent voicemail from longtime Acorah confidant Bruce Jones. Whilst the majority of Bruce's 47 minute message consisted of weeping and sexual threats to my person, he did manage to articulate one salient home-truth:
"Derek needs you."
The next morning I packed my bags and boarded the first coach to Southport. I was a bag of nerves for the duration of the five hour journey. Mine and Derek's relationship had soured since we had last met, with Derek taking great offense at my unflinching depiction of his on tour antics.
When I arrived I was given a cool reception by Mrs Gwen Acorah “You’ve got some cheek showing your face around here, You broke his bloody heart!" I smiled weakly and went to embrace her, but she turned away, tears welling in her eyes "He’s out back, resting by the pool.” When I passed in to the garden I was greeted by the trademark Acorah glare.
A silence heavy with emotion settled between us. Eager to break the ice and stimulate some conversation I casually remarked: “Nice pool Derek, mind if I take a dip?” He instantly perked up, unable to hide his pride at owning a new pool. Derek was about to respond when I inadvisably continued my train of thought “But what’s with the netting and Koi carp?” The smile disappeared from his face: “Still a sarcy little cunt I see.” He then took small photo of Michael Barrymore from his wallet, whispered into my ear “remember this guy?” and walked back into his home.