You, Me and Sean Bean By Holly Searle

Don't ask me when the conversation started as its evolution is a mystery to me. But it did and as such, is an open ended work in progress even as we speak.

There is no construction to it, no solid mapped path or sense to its being and no serious point to it at all. But rather a delightful randomness that is centred around the main subject matter, that is, the one and only Sean Bean. There are a multitude of additional open ended add ons, which could be interpreted by any given stranger overhearing them, simply as the mutterings of a pair of delusional nutters who share an over active imagination in their idolisation of this actor from South Yorkshire.

That may well be, but it is funny and amuses us endlessly.

If I had to identify how and why it started, I would have to say that it was due to my friend's admiration of Sean's portrayal of Richard Sharpe, the eponymous hero from the television series Sharpe and of my own particular fondness for the character of Mellors, that he played in Lady Chatterley's Lover. It was these two specific protagonist that led him to become the object of our joint affection, and that created the firm foundation of our co-conspiratorial conversations that mutated into something more.

Voids of time are often filled either in person or via a social media internet connection of our shared harmless interest in Sean. There no intended malice, but rather an innocent inquisitorial interest in him and his antics, both on and off the screen.

He is a true patriarchal legend in both spheres, simply because there is a fine blurred line between the characters he plays and because of the man he appears to be in reality. And this, in our minds, presents an ongoing parody of who Sean Bean is and how we relate to him.

Initially, we bonded over the fact that he is probably the sort of bloke who would be a good laugh to go for a drink with as he possesses a rare rough and ready masculinity that has all but diminished in today's society. With the sort of personality traits that you could also attribute to Tom Jones or associate with the character of Gene Hunt in Ashes to Ashes or Life on Mars.

The sort of man who once wore Old Spice or Brut aftershave whilst a dolly bird draped herself all over him. The kind of bloke who drank and smoked and liked to call women 'Love' or 'Pet' rather than 'Babe' and who would have no hesitation in initiating a punch up in the event that some 'Little Git' should make the mistake of eyeing up his bird.

Men like that may be dinosaurs that have just been stored in the loft with a pile of dusty old Playboy magazines and rusty bicycle clips. But what have they been replaced with? Poor politically correct substitutes with confused dumbed-down personalities that Sean and his like couldn't even begin to understand and quite frankly would have no time for.

So we decided that was why we liked Sean. He is a man's man, a no nonsense say it like it is type of fellow, who would have a few stories to tell that would make you roar with laughter and who would make sure you got home safe at the end of the night.

Our investigations led us to the fact that Sean liked a drink in North London with his pals. We did consider our options having sourced this information (hike over there and see what transpired), but came to conclude that there were far too many unforeseen scenarios that might disrupt our quest so we left it.

AS time went on, we indulged ourselves by keeping our faith and interest in him alive, by posting status' which referred to Sean on Facebook. Then one day my phone rang and my friend's little voice said “Holly, you know that every time we mention him, it appears in a feed on his page and anyone and everyone can see it”. She laughed and I laughed as if it was nothing at all and yet something all at the same time. It wasn't serious and our friends all thought it was funny as well, or maybe they are just Goodfellowing us and just for a fleeting moment, I felt like Joe Pesci.

We have long periods of time when Sean even isn't even mentioned at all. He's not the centre of our universes after all, our own lives are. But somewhere up there in the ether he is never forgotten. We keep him suspended in a joint mental limbo until he happens to appear on a chat show, a late night movie or in a story in the press. And when he does, he is reborn in our joint consciousness once more.

During a recent trip, my friend and I found ourselves on a train diversion on our way home. We boarded the replacement bus service and during the hour it took us to get from station A to station B to reconnect with the correct train, we discussed Sean at great length.

These exchanges often follow the same pattern, that is to say I assume the role of Sean and adopt his Northern accent. I then act out what I consider his appropriate reaction would be to the main topic of the conversation that is taking place.

The phrase "You had to be there." Often enters my mind during these moments.

By the time we arrived at Station B, we had decided that Sean should in actuality employ us both. That way, we could live in his swanky villa in North London and take care of all of his needs as he is undoubtedly a busy man who is often away filming, that would be happy to know that we were there waiting for him when he returned.

After one of his many costume drama escapades on route to Mordor or Winterfell, that would last for at least a few months, we worked out that he would welcome a dinner party on his return that we would arrange. We then decided who we would invite to attend and what we would serve for supper. I thought that Chas and Dave could perhaps be persuaded to provide the entertainment as I am sure Sean would enjoy a sing along to Ain't No Pleasing You.

Of course, knowing we were all just trustworthy mates, Sean would furnish us with shed loads of cash with which to make these arrangements possible.

We also came to conclude that we would get all of this done and dusted early on prior to his return. That way, we could spend a week away before hand pampering ourselves, so that by the time he was due home and before the dinner party guests arrived, we would be well rested from the joint effort we had put in.

At that moment the train arrived and we continued on our journey and Sean was filed away.

This was the last time we discussed him at great depth or that I thought about him, until I ventured into a random bookmakers after The Grand National to collect my winnings and, I kid you not, as I approached the counter, the fellow who was standing there was his spitting image.

I smiled dumbfounded, and handed him the ticket saying that I was one of millions of people who he probably encountered at this time of the year due to the National.

He laughed and returned my banter in a Sheffield drawl. I was gob smacked.

I left with my meagre £2.50 winnings. But my mind was rich in wonder, as I thought for a brief moment that perhaps it had actually been him researching a role.

Next a text from my friend letting me to know that Sean was being interviewed by Jonathan Ross. I switched over immediately to watched him. He is not the easiest man in the world to interview and, as I watched him that became uncomfortably apparent.

Maybe he is shy or maybe he was worried that he hadn't banked that day's takings from the bookmakers.

Then a story appeared in the press about his latest role playing a transvestite and I think that was for us the beginning of the end. Not that either of us have an issue with cross-dressing men, but rather because it showed a side of Sean that debased his masculinity in our eyes.

He hasn't really been discussed and we have both in since switched our alliances to other men that we find more suitable.

My friend was been quite taken by the scamp that is Jeremy Renner probably because he looked good in that outfit he wore in The Hurtlocker and is quite fetching as Hawkeye in Avengers Assemble.

Me, well that is for me to know, but I will undoubtedly still remember Sean from time to time with great affection and fondness, especially when I see a tree.