BADDER THAN BAD By Kathryn Fox (for The Pink Paper)

When actress Mandana Jones was originally auditioned for a part in Bad Girls, the mega successful TV prison drama, she was hoping to get the part of governor. "I wore a grey suit," she tells me, "trying to fit the stern image." But as soon as casting director Brian Park saw her, he asked her to read for the part of Nikki. "Nikki is a con who has murdered a policeman," Mandana explains. It's her slim, boy-ish figure and smouldering looks that make her fit the role so convincingly, I tell her. "What about these huge boobs?" she giggles, grabbing a handful of her shirt. I strain for a look. Hmm, not huge exactly, but generously proportioned. Mandana, as 33, not only has a model figure, but is now probably earning one.

Bad Girls has taken the television world by storm, picking up award after award for best drama. Unusually, it's not only the ratings that have proved its success, but massive traffic on the many internet sites dedicated to its dissemination.
Mandana Jones and co-star Simone Lahbib are relaxing between takes for their third series on the Bad Girls set, at Three Mills Island in London's East End. Casually dressed, they eat their lunch from paper plates, taking turns between mouthfuls to answer my questions. "Simone and I had already worked together on the London Bridge drama series," said Mandana. "We never actually read together at the audition, so it was a pleasant surprise that Simone got the part."

Brian Park, ex-Coronation Street supremo and co-founder of the production company which makes Bad Girls, could see immediately why their physical interplay was so brilliant: Mandana as Nikki - strong, boyish, yet with a vulnerable nobility, Simone as Helen - softly spoken, curvaceous, and seriously disturbed by her new-found passion. They are dynamite together.

Simone's lilting Scottish accent interjects: "Theirs is a love story; the fact that I act in love with a woman, even though I'm straight, wasn't a worry." Ah, but that first kiss. We're they nervous? "No, not really, but it took 16 takes," they both laugh. 16? My God - some women I know would be close to orgasm by then. Were they enjoying it so much they kept deliberately getting it wrong? "No, no," they both giggle. "The director wanted it to be a kiss that 'just happens'. It couldn't look as if either of us was predatory. Every time one of us got it right, the other one got it wrong."

"Nikki and Helen are really on the same wavelength," Mandana says, explaining her motivation. "There is a great deal of intuitive communication between them."
"Helen has deep reservations," says Simone, "not just because Nikki is behind bars, but because she knows that eventually she will want to have a family; she is pulled in many different directions."
"The thing is," Mandana continues, pensively, "you can never actually take the viewer inside the heads of two people making love. It's easier to take them into the mind of a murderer."
Simone qualifies this: "Well, it's not impossible. I think Jane Campion managed it in The Piano. "We all three agree that Holly Hunter's exploits with Harvey Keitel while she played the keys, were, very, very sexy.

The mind of a murderer, however, is just where Nikki will be taking the viewers at the beginning of this thrilling third series. The cliff-hanger ending left Nikki escaping from Larkhall prison to spend a few precious hours with Helen. Thousands of lesbian fans up and down the country will be willing them to keep it together. Will Helen turn her in? Will Nikki abscond and forget about Helen forever? The pair are tight-lipped.

One thing they can talk about is their fans. Adored by legions, both Simone and Mandana have recieved sacks of mail. "Some of them are from women pouring out their hearts to us. The sheer volume is daunting," reveals Mandana. So who is responsible for answering it? " Well, we are. I've got sacks in the car, in cupboards, behind the telly. I feel so guilty; they call from the recesses of my mind.: 'Answer me, answer me.' "

Now most actors would give their back teeth for an opportunity to star in a TV series, let alone one as well written as Bad Girls. Yet there is a price to be paid. Fame of any sort means the lack of privacy. It intrudes into your mental furniture and re-arranges it. Simone agrees, lighting a ciggie. "I read my fan mail and I think: ' Fucking hell, there's so many amazing people out there.' Some letters are full of good vibes, but some are quite sad."
Ah, but how about weirdos, I wonder? "Well, some fans found out where I lived and traced my mobile phone number, so I had to put a stop to that because of course it becomes harassment after a while," says Simone. How did she stop it then? "I registered with the malicious calls bureau," came the simple answer.

So how does it feel to be an household name and recognised by fans in the street? "Well, it's funny, but sometimes men call out 'Wheyhey! Phaor! Oi, Nikki!' to me, and I think to myself: 'Wait a minute! You shouldn't be interested in a dyke like her.'"
No, they shouldn't - not unless they want to be killed in the crush.

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