My flatmate Grant (or Granny as we have renamed him) got me into Eastenders around Christmas time. I’d never been a massive fan at any time in my life really. I would dip in here and there when things got particularly interesting. I was obviously on the edge of my seat for weeks during the whole Trevor vs Wee Mo incident but besides that there is little I remember. Granny had been back home for Christmas and got into the habit of watching it daily with his mum. Given this intense period of Eastenders viewing he was able to get a pretty good grasp of what was going on in Albert Square and was soon hooked.

It wasn’t long before we all relocated back to London to our humble abode together – fat on Christmas pudding and Quality Streets. Each night Granny would make sure he got home from work in time for Eastenders. He’d crack open his bottle of Fanta and tuck into his Goodfellas pizza sitting with a smile as wide as Pat Butcher’s rear end as the opening drum thuds echoed around the room out of our shitty 20-year-old Matsui TV set (which is as far from being a wide screen as Dot Cotton is from being a real living, breathing human being). Because I do not own a telly and I enjoy the company of Granny I would sit next to him during this 30 minute high he was experiencing to see if I could get in on why he taken such a liking to it all of a sudden. We watched a few together and before I know it I was hooked. The highs, the lows, the laughs, the japes, the numerous passionate outbursts in front of the whole pub, usually along the lines of, “Go on. Get lost. There’s nuffink to see ‘ere” or “You wanna watch your mouf”.

There’s a little bit of something for everyone on Eastenders and for me, that very special someone goes by the name of Heather. Heather is a relatively new addition to Albert Square but is a pretty awesome one. She was already in it when I got hooked – her initial appeal was her obsession with George Michael, cheese and karaoke, not to mention her cheap jazzy dresses, sparkly head bands and best friend that resembles Ziggy Stardust in drag on a budget.

Heather is one of the sweetest, stupidest and most unfortunate people to hit the Square. Let’s be honest – Jessica Rabbit she is not. The fat one from Birds of a Feather crossed with Les Dennis and you’re much closer to the visual wonder that is she. But you know, in certain instances, looks are irrelevant because a person’s inner beauty and innocence shines out beyond the saggy boobs and pig trotters.

Heather is the eternal optimist even though she’s had a life of horse shit and kitty wee. Heather lived with her controlling mother Queenie until she moved in with Ziggy Stardust (Shirley). Her parents’ marriage broke down when she was young, and Queenie told her that her father had left because he couldn’t stand living with Heather. Heather grew up being mentally abused by her mother, who called her “Pig”. Despite this, she is nice to everyone and always seems to think everything will work out in the end. Obviously she’s not real but let’s not worry about that. She’s basically a slightly odd-looking cardboard cut-out of what a nice person should be like. And for someone as miserable as me that makes her pretty cool.

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