Fifty Shades of Phish Food

**warning....this contains spoilers!!**

When my four year relationship ended abruptly after the trip of a life time to New York, I did what I do best and based my coping mechanism entirely on chick lit.

I went to La Senza and spent a small fortune on inappropriate underwear which I wore to watch the Gossip Girl box set and ball my eyes out whenever an image of the Empire State Building was shown. (Approx. 1 in 4 episodes.)

With the addition of my good friends Ben and Jerry and my even better friend Pinot Grigio I was coping just fine.

However, it soon became apparent I could focus on nothing but Chuck Bass in an afternoon and partying my little head off on an evening. The very fact Chuck Bass was not my boyfriend left me in tears (and not the fact he waited at the top of the bastard Empire State for Blair AT ALL)….. Drinking wine left me in tears (blates) and the thought of 15,000 upcoming hen do’s and weddings (three. OKAY. THREE) left me quite frankly suicidal.

It was in one of these moments, that a good friend – let’s call her LINDSEY (that’s her name, I just wasn’t feeling inventive) whispered in my ear the now Worldwide known phrase ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’

As this was in one of my hysterical drunken moments, I simply took a swig of Rescue Remedy, took my shoes off and headed back to the dance floor thinking she was talking about a shot.

The next morning, she sent me the same text ‘Seriously. Fifty Shades of Grey. Even Linda is reading it’

Well. If Linda is reading it, I think I should have a slice of the action to be honest. God bless Lindsey. I even got a second text with ‘PS. It’s £3.86 in Asda.’

On reaching  Asda, I got my first taste of the Grey Cult. It was easy to track down the book stand. It was surrounded by women who were trying their hardest to pretend they had just noticed the book on their way to the fish cakes. Every now and again, an arm darted to the shelf, grabbed a book, slung it in the trolley and flew straight back to deciding between cod and tuna.

Feeling like a single, independent woman wearing great underwear I stalked straight through and declared ‘AHHH HERE IT IS’ (I still have no idea why.) and proudly took my copy (and two tubs of Phish Food) to the checkout. As soon as the barcode is scanned, you’re in. The checkout assistant gives you the ‘welcome to the club’ smile and you leave, smiling at the smug faces of the women you know have their very own Christian Grey nestled under the Bernard Matthews.

By the time I had read the first chapter, 50 Shades was trending worldwide. By the time I had read the third book, it had sold more than Hazza P and EL James was shacking up in her new 56 bed mansion (complete with its own red room? Unconfirmed….)

Worth the hype? Whilst I was reading it, I told EVERYBODY to get it. IT WILL CHANGE YOUR RELATIONSHIP I bleated. (Because I clearly was the right person to be preaching about that).

IT WILL MAKE YOUR SEX LIFE AMAZING. (Well. No further comment. I was feeling lairy again). But, all in all? Yes, it’s great. Who doesn’t want the sex life of a nympho, only stopping to stock up on Loubs (LOUBOUTINS. LOUBOUTINS.)……

It’s when you finish reading you realise the flaws.

Let’s be honest. If Anastasia Steele was really a virgin, would she have got into the swing of things quite so quickly!? Good effort and all that but….. Something just doesn’t work there for me.

Secondly. Does anybody else feel slightly uncomfortable with the phrase ‘he cups my sex’?! …..I’m absolutely certain it is one of the most over used lines of the entire trilogy. I can deal with Kinky Fuckery. I can deal with the red room. Hell, I can deal with hard limits…. But ‘he cups my sex’?! Nah. I’m not interested in that.

Despite book number one having the slowest start to a story known to mankind, I think the rest of the trilogy moves far too quickly with only sex gluing it (ahem) together.

Fifty Shades Darker has the best story line, without a doubt, however, I can’t help but admit the ending to Fifty Shades Freed left me seriously disappointed.  Personally, I was gagging for a twist at the end… and I thought one was on its way when Mr. Grey stepped into the narrator’s shoes. But no. He practically just re writes everything you already know in what I consider quite a lazy attempt at an ending.

And now? Now I am sick to death of seeing the words.  I am pissed off I have even written about it to be honest. In fact, if you have read this, I don’t blame you for being annoyed either. If I have to look at one more status about it (or one more disturbing text from my Dad asking if he should buy it for my mum) I will explode.

Call me when they’ve decided Matt Bomer is Grey in the film adaptation and we’ll talk. Until then, I’m off to get Magic Mike style kicks with Ben and Jerry.

Laters, Ba….Oh for fu….