In Which I Write For The Mail ( by sunstone)
As I wake bleary eyed ,and peer through my ultra long lashes ( by Natalie of course,doing all us celebs now),the haze of the sun hits me through my ancient window.Nelly my cleaner has just exited the room after pulling back the heavy drapes ( from some posh shop I forget..)
I gaze wistfully,or could it be myopically ,at the wondrous Yorkshire or French or Shropshire ( oh ****,where am I??) countryside.
Suddenly I hear the screech of lambsicals being slaughtered,I throw myself in agony on the cashmere and prawn quilt.
Agonies of ecstasy,for 'tis Nelly eviscerating the lambs to prepare a manly breakfast of kidneys for my sexy mustachioed lover man.Oh how I adore him,for he carries a shotgun and a huge belly.( sisters.I must confess,his hairy thighs distract me from my cleanliness).
But haste,I must leave now for the children of the household are much in need of a sound whipping and sadly I am the only personage with the will and strength.( though 'tis said I am but tiny and beautiful,and maybe a bit gozzy eyed).
An ailing cat is calling ,or could that be a child or a parent..
Nelly will sort it.Time for an oily bath.