*** CHALLENGE TO 'IMAGINE YOU ARE ANY CELEBRITY' - SET BY SUPERSTEVO ***

When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I see is my reflection in a full length mirror above the bed. Mmm, think I overdid it last night! I wipe away last night’s make up and gasp with horror as I remember snogging Alastair from Fame Academy in front of those 3AM girls. Not such a good idea, me thinks.

I get out of bed and pad along the fluffy leopard print carpet to the bathroom. I bet Jodie Marsh doesn’t have such classy carpets! But she still lives at home with her family, doesn’t she? She’s a long way before she can steal my throne – bah, silly pretender!

I turn on the gold taps in my marble bathroom and splash my face with water. Slowly, I begin the hour-long process of applying my make-up. Some people may say that I trowel it on too thick – but what do they know? I’m not Britain’s Number 1 glamour girl for nothing.

In the background I hear Harvey crying. Harvey is my 16 month-old son with Dwight Yorke. I named him after my favourite cocktail, Harvey Wallbanger. I love him to bits, he is the most precious creature. Harvey’s got a rare medical condition, which means he will be blind for the rest of his life and suffer from stunted growth. I don’t want pity. I love my little boy with all my heart. I’d do anything for him. All this money and glamour, it all comes second to my sweetheart, Harvey.

I put on my fluffy 3-inch mules and pad along the corridor to Harvey’s nursery. He used to sleep with me in the first few months, but then mummy had to have her own life, if you know what I mean? It all came to a crunch when I bought Gareth Gates back for some ‘ex-sex’, and he was a bit disturbed by seeing Harvey’s cot in the bedroom. So before we got down to it, we both moved Harvey and the cot out to another room. He’s stayed there ever since (Harvey that is, not Gareth!)

After getting Harvey ready, I play with him a bit. He needs toys that stimulate his senses, because he can hardly see anything. He is so smiley. Whenever I’m low and the world tells me I’m a good-for-nothing slag, I think of my Harvey and feel so proud.

The doorbell goes - it plays the song ‘Who let the dogs out?’ This is my little joke, because it reminds me of the days when Posh Spice and me were big rivals. Both of our men played for Manchester United and when I came into the VIP room at Old Trafford she started singing ‘Who let the dogs out?’ I don’t know what her problem is – guess she’d been spending too much time with my ex, Dane Bowers. I like to think I’ve had the last laugh whenever the doorbell goes!

It is my mum at the door. She comes to look after Harvey while I can go out and earn some money. It’s another photo-shoot for a national tabloid. They normally have clothes (or bits of clothes) for me to wear, but I like to bring my own. No-one has the style or the sassiness of me – I know what Jordan wears! My real name is Katie, you see, but when I think of my outside world, I call myself ‘Jordan’. It is kinda like my stage name.

So, anyway, I rush upstairs to my walk-in closet. Which leather bikini would work this time? Hmmmm, or maybe the virginal lace thongs to really play with their minds? I grab a selection and off I go.

The shoot is long and tiring, I miss Harvey. I call mum on the mobile to see how she’s doing. Sometimes I get confused about my identity. It doesn’t help when people shout mean things in the street as I get back into the car. Don’t they know I am just trying to bring in a bit of money? I started off with nothing and now look at me.

Finally, the car arrives home. I love coming up the driveway and seeing my mock tudor home. Even though I’m not a footballer’s wife (damm Dwight would never marry me), my house does resemble one. Actually, ITV asked me if they could use my house, but I said no. That’s too tacky – I like my privacy and home to be separate (well, apart from all those documentary crews I keep letting in).

I’ve got just enough time to eat dinner with my mum and Harvey, before I get ready for the evening. This is where the big bucks come in. I’m doing an ‘appearance’ at a nightclub in Bracknell – they pay me well, give me all the champagne I want and the punters love it. You’ve gotta give something back after all? If a guy is lucky, I might give him the odd squeeze of one of my famous bazookers!

Back into my walk-in closet and again, the agony – what to wear? I decide on a burberry head-wrap and nurses outfit. It’s all good for a laugh, innit? Time to apply some more make-up – false eyelashes, blusher, blusher, more blusher, lipstick, lipgloss …

I head back to Harvey’s room, where he is sleeping peacefully in his cot. I give him a long kiss, before wiping off the make-up I’ve left behind. I adjust my boobs and walk proudly to the waiting limo outside.

As I head out for the night, I hope I’ve given you a little insight into the Queendom of Jordan. I’m not that bad, am I? You see, I have a heart and soul like you.