IN WHICH I REALISE I MAY HAVE GOT IT WRONG MY ENTIRE LIFE
I woke up to a smell of shrimp, with a fur-baby's bottom wedged under my nose, and my Blackberry in my hand. You see, I never stop working. I even work in my sleep. Nobody has any idea just how HARD I work. I rose and splashed my face with the fresh tears of anguished children (£799 a vial from Harvey Nicks) and breakfasted on some - well no I looked at an egg. I didn't actually eat it, because I'm vegan and borderline fcuknuts. I licked the shell and put it back under my favourite beloved chicken.
You see I would have been a fantastic mother, if only I had had periods, and sex.
Slipping into my cashmere lined wellies, I went out to feed the rats, and the beetles, and even the woodlice. I have taken in a woodlouse with cancer and it is having chemo at GREAT EXPENSE but I do not mind. I love all animals. Especially those that make cashmere.
After my second bottle of champagne, which I have to have bottled specially as I am allergic to ordinary people, I decided to take stock of my life, but then realised I didn't have one. However, the sales start next week and I will buy designer thongs for the sheep, and this makes me - not exactly content - but slightly less ashen and deathy.