Johnny Americanballs

Posted on October 30, 2011 by Myras_Kitchen 2 Comments

This is hard, right?  We know we said last week that we thought Lee should head for the States to live out his dream.  But it’s a whole different (baseball) game when it comes to saying …

No.  We can’t say it.  Not yet.  Let’s rewind.

When we left Lee last week, he was staying put.  Lee couldn’t leave without Amy, Amy couldn’t leave without the kids, the kids couldn’t leave without their Dad, and Ste couldn’t go.  So Lee Hunter sacrificed his future, for love, and never said a word.   He was left to console himself with a new ultimate business venture: Rap Apps.  You download it onto your mobile, apparently, and anything you type in, it plays it back as a rap.  Ste looked sceptical.  Even Lee didn’t seem too convinced, but he thought as long as he could get Snoop or Jay-Z onboard, he’d be winning.

It took Lee’s oldest mate Darren (DARREN!!!  Where the eff have you been, man?  Aw, how we love Lee and Darren together) to point out that this whole “staying put” plan had a coupla major flaws:  1) It sucked, and 2) he was miserable.  And then Amy found out what he’d done.  He tried to say it didn’t matter.  He loved her ten times over the legal limit.  He’d love her in Grimsby.  (“Is that where Dracula’s from?” she asked him, sinking into his arms.  “No,” he said, resigned, “that’s Whitby”).

But there was just one problem.  He couldn’t bring himself to cancel those tickets.  He hung on to them, like the fading reminders of a life he couldn’t have.  But he would, he said.  “That’s what love is, sometimes, isn’t it, letting go?” he told her.  Amy looked thoughtful.  “You’re perfect,” she told him.  “You are my perfect, beautiful, dream man.  Don’t ever change.”

And then she went away and arranged a party for him.  A So Long Lee party.  And broke it to him that he was going on his own, because if he didn’t, he’d resent her in the end, and it wouldn’t be perfect anymore.  (Are you crying yet?  We were).  So she gave him his passport, and his ticket, and she set him free.  God help the American economy, it’s in enough trouble as it is.

All his mates were there.  Tex-arse.  Michaela, though she hardly counts as a mate.  Darren told him the place wouldn’t be the same without him.  Bunny Boiler Leanne reminded him of all the Bad Times, but still had to be surgically removed from his neck by burly onlookers.

And then he was left to say what couldn’t be said to Amy.

“So, this isn’t …” he said.

“Goodbye …?” she said.

“We’d know, wouldn’t we, if it was?” he asked.

“Yeah, we would know,” she said.

So they had a kiss and a cry, and he left without saying it.  And he got to stay The Hero.  He tried to give it all up for her, and she gave it right back.

So we won’t say goodbye either, Lee, ye big eejit.  We’ll just say thanks for coming back.  Not for Maskara, that’d

be crazy talk, and we were a bit iffy about Guy Candy if we’re honest.  But just for being a bit of a tool.  For running through the village naked except for a woolly hat, the single most uncool thing Doug had ever seen.  For being daft, but not quite daft enough to marry Leanne, getting your nose punched as a reward, and ending up camped out in Doug’s van because you had nowhere else to go.  For daring to say “Must-dash” to Brendan Brady.  For the ill-fated Hunter and Fadel radio show, shut down by the Dean because of your “ludicrous actions” (not my words).   For your Yoda impersonation (“In my life need you I do”).  For being too wussy to walk over hot coals.  For finally finding the love of a good woman with Amy.  For never ever failing to make us laugh of a tea-time.  And for being a fully paid-up bona fide Hollyoaks LEGEND.

As befits a legend, he got his own after credit shot.  “I’m leaving you for the last time, baby,” Duffy sang mournfully, over the taxi radio, as they pulled out of the village.  “It’s a bit downbeat this, mate,” he sniffed, “have you got anything more cheerier?”  So they switched channel to something chirpy.  And the tears still ran down his face.