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Liz Jones - YOU magazine (Part 4)


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Old 03-02-2013, 14:31
happydisaster
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I used to think Jones was just a cynical moo concocting outrageous stories. However, having seen the pathetic state of her on the aforementioned Phil n Fern show, having read her column whilst she was PLANNING her wedding to Nirps (and it being plainly obvious the relationship was doomed right back then), noting her horrific repeated errors and failures in life..... I can honestly say she does everything fully committed and from her heart. The fact she needs to be committed and her heart is made of nothing but greed and selfishness is beside the point. She is actually genuine. A genuine lunatic. I read her column for insight into narcissism bordering on sociopathy.
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Old 03-02-2013, 14:45
mourinhosmissus
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And what about this little corker?....

I emailed Nic. ‘Lizzie has dropped weight,’ I told her. ‘I’m really worried.’ ‘You too are far too thin,’ she sent back. ‘She is mirroring you. She always does.’
There's just so much wrong in those sentences.
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Old 03-02-2013, 15:05
Saltydog1955
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And what about this little corker?....



There's just so much wrong in those sentences.
Typical Liz Jones. Personally I don't believe Nic said any such thing.
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Old 03-02-2013, 15:49
morecowbell
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Nic is apparently in the London Cupboard convalescing after an operation.

She never mentions that does she?
No. In Liz world Nic is on holiday! Cheeky mare!
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Old 03-02-2013, 16:13
cathrin
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Oh, it just get worse and worse. Gleefully flaunting her own speeding tickets yet sneering sarcastically if "a man" overtakes her on the motorway. Working on her laptop on a train, a perfectly normal and acceptable activity, yet feeling the need to comment if "a man" should dare to opens his laptop opposite, blocking her light. Endless sick and injured animal stories, closing, of course, on a manipulative cliffhanger ending to tweak the heartstrings of the animal lovers. No less than two articles in the same paper retelling the same keeping-sick-animals-alive-long-after-the-point-when-it's-humane-to-do-so stories she's told over and over again already. Passive-aggressive references to her own thinness. (Look! I'm thin! Look! My animals are ill! So now you can't possibly criticise me for being vile to older mothers or making nasty spiteful comments about other people's weight, 'cos if you do you'll be a HORRID BULLY!)

...And last but not least, my favourite LJ bugbear: lots more of that strange, grammatically precise, robot-like dialogue that everyone speaks in in Liz world, completely devoid of the normal elisions and shortenings that go with normal speech. "It will be some time. I will call you when she has come round," says the vet. "I think it is liver failure." "You too are too thin," says Nick. "She is mirroring you." Why do none of these people say It'll, I'll, she's, it's, you're, like normal human beings? Hasn't she ever had, or at least heard, an actual conversation?
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Old 03-02-2013, 16:46
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Endless sick and injured animal stories, closing, of course, on a manipulative cliffhanger ending to tweak the heartstrings of the animal lovers.
It doesn't work on all of us! The more of her stories she tells of selfishly forcing an ill or old animal to linger when it's time has clearly come because she can't face the pain of losing it, the more I despise her.

I've had cats and dogs all my adult life and the decision to put a suffering pet out of its pain is the most difficult thing animal-owners have to face. But ultimately allowing them to go is the final loving act of a responsible owner.

But that's 'responsible' owners and a million miles away from the selfish LJ who treats them as possessions and would probably grieve just as much over a lost buttery-soft handbag as she does over her pets.
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Old 03-02-2013, 17:34
cathrin
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Gleefully flaunting her own speeding yet sneering sarcastically if "a man" overtakes her on the motorway. ?
Oops, misread that: it actually said "on the inside on the motorway" which, fair enough, is out of order. My mistake. (It still doesn't make her speeding-tickets-as-a-matter-of-course attitude right, though.)

Totally agree with you fizzycat; any genuine animal lover would surely be horrified by the state of her animals and the keeping-them-alive thing. I do wonder if she thinks this through when she serves up these stories of sick horses and cats week after week. I know there are lots of people who fall for it and say "How can people be mean about her, just look how much she loves animals", but there are far more comments expressing horror and concern. Surely she must realise that these stories attract far more criticism than they deflect?
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Old 03-02-2013, 17:46
kiviraat
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...And last but not least, my favourite LJ bugbear: lots more of that strange, grammatically precise, robot-like dialogue that everyone speaks in in Liz world, completely devoid of the normal elisions and shortenings that go with normal speech. "It will be some time. I will call you when she has come round," says the vet. "I think it is liver failure." "You too are too thin," says Nick. "She is mirroring you." Why do none of these people say It'll, I'll, she's, it's, you're, like normal human beings? Hasn't she ever had, or at least heard, an actual conversation?
It'll to be to fill her word quota!
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Old 03-02-2013, 18:42
happydisaster
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Oh, it just get worse and worse. Gleefully flaunting her own speeding tickets yet sneering sarcastically if "a man" overtakes her on the motorway. Working on her laptop on a train, a perfectly normal and acceptable activity, yet feeling the need to comment if "a man" should dare to opens his laptop opposite, blocking her light. Endless sick and injured animal stories, closing, of course, on a manipulative cliffhanger ending to tweak the heartstrings of the animal lovers. No less than two articles in the same paper retelling the same keeping-sick-animals-alive-long-after-the-point-when-it's-humane-to-do-so stories she's told over and over again already. Passive-aggressive references to her own thinness. (Look! I'm thin! Look! My animals are ill! So now you can't possibly criticise me for being vile to older mothers or making nasty spiteful comments about other people's weight, 'cos if you do you'll be a HORRID BULLY!)

...And last but not least, my favourite LJ bugbear: lots more of that strange, grammatically precise, robot-like dialogue that everyone speaks in in Liz world, completely devoid of the normal elisions and shortenings that go with normal speech. "It will be some time. I will call you when she has come round," says the vet. "I think it is liver failure." "You too are too thin," says Nick. "She is mirroring you." Why do none of these people say It'll, I'll, she's, it's, you're, like normal human beings? Hasn't she ever had, or at least heard, an actual conversation?
to be fair on Jiz...... and THAT is the first and last time I shall utter those words.... maybe 'she's' only counts as one word whereas 'she is' counts as two? Not sure. But you can see how a person could double their income?

Not that I think any of the convos are true !

What's with the faux-anorexia anyway? Is she hoping people will send her food parcels or money? Will next week's heading be 'In which I am too thin to write this column'?
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Old 03-02-2013, 19:04
Sarah Soreen
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Oops, misread that: it actually said "on the inside on the motorway" which, fair enough, is out of order. My mistake. (It still doesn't make her speeding-tickets-as-a-matter-of-course attitude right, though.)

Totally agree with you fizzycat; any genuine animal lover would surely be horrified by the state of her animals and the keeping-them-alive thing. I do wonder if she thinks this through when she serves up these stories of sick horses and cats week after week. I know there are lots of people who fall for it and say "How can people be mean about her, just look how much she loves animals", but there are far more comments expressing horror and concern. Surely she must realise that these stories attract far more criticism than they deflect?
She has incensed me today. Takes a pack of untrained dogs to an unfamiliar place, one gets lacerated and she is amazed another returns.

Poor Lizzie the horse "suddenly" getting thin and looking at potential liver failure. All "suddenly" of course, nothing to do with the fact that the poor horse has been subjected to all notions of idealistic flippertygibbet claptrap instead of just being fed a healthy diet, regular visits from a REAL vet, visited a blacksmith for some actual SHOES then taken for regular exercise. Liz pontificates as though she has some psychic link with this horse when the reality is that Lizzie the horse really doesnt like her. So, "suddenly thin". Nothing to do with the abject fluffy holistic rubbish she has been rescued to endure for the sake of copy.

And then the chicken. A chicken on chemo. A solitary, lonely chicken with cancer, smothered in bottom cream and stuffed in a tea cosy. Honestly, you couldnt make this batshit up!

And then her poor lovely loyal friend. I cant go there again, she made me cry with her cruelty.

Yes, I read the woman, have done for years, I used to defend her in years past although not for a long time. Sure, I mock, I criticise, I sit aghast at the utter self absorbed nonsense she spouts as you would if you were rubber necking a car crash in slow motion, and then I get on with my day. But today I am utterly disgusted. She has finally tipped me into loathing.

Her cruelty and disregard for these animals knows no bounds as long as they continue to salve her neediness, her selfishness and her increasingly desperate need for "copy".
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Old 03-02-2013, 19:27
lozenger
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If that woman really works 80 hour weeks or whatever she claims, then she has no business keeping any animal, let alone decrepit, sick ones that need even more attention. Damn cruel hypocrite 'rescuing' = confining them to a life of prolonged misery
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Old 03-02-2013, 20:40
sunstone
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So now she admits it was wrong to keep Squeaky going for so long,but does the same thing again with the poor hen and now Lizzie the horse.It seems like that poor horse has been constantly ailing since she was "rescued",poor thing.Oh and she's happy for the ancient puppies to kill rabbits.
Also Liz needs to get a copy of the highway code or retake her driving test.You don't pootle along in the middle lane of a motorway ,dopey moo
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Old 03-02-2013, 20:43
Blondie X
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Oops, misread that: it actually said "on the inside on the motorway" which, fair enough, is out of order.
This only seems to happen though because the silly bint insists that it's her right to pootle along in the middle lane. People like her are a bloody menace driving along at 50 in the middle with nothing on the inside of them
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Old 03-02-2013, 20:52
cathrin
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Did anyone else find it slightly odd that the (beautiful) vet kissed the chicken? Is it the done thing for vets to kiss their patients?
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Old 03-02-2013, 21:16
sunstone
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Did anyone else find it slightly odd that the (beautiful) vet kissed the chicken? Is it the done thing for vets to kiss their patients?
I wouldn't have thought so!
Of the 2 vets that cared for my cat at the end,the one who amputated her paw was sweet and said my cat always held up her paw for the dressings to be replaced,but she never kissed her!

ETA Olympians are probably illiterate,bless you Jonesy,but they can speak without dislocating their jaws .Jess Ennis is everything she wishes she was.
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Old 03-02-2013, 23:43
vampyre
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Did anyone else find it slightly odd that the (beautiful) vet kissed the chicken? Is it the done thing for vets to kiss their patients?
A vet once kissed my very charismatic tiny pug dog. She hated said vet with a passion because the ****** had just exploded the radial vein her left foreleg, so she tried to bite him.
I got her a new vet after this horrible occasion.
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Old 04-02-2013, 04:29
Scarlett O Hara
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I honestly think she sits down and thinks"What can I wind up my dislikers with today"
I think so too. I think this of the Daily Fail's entire editorial output. Every single word and picture in that rag (especially the online edition) is big trolling operation, and nothing more.
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Old 04-02-2013, 09:09
Seabird
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Just about every comment to the Diary is questioning why the RSPCA haven't paid her a visit, they are probably not aware of her but hopefully someone will alert them. I too have long believed she has Münchausen syndrome by proxy regarding her animals. Most worrying is she has made many references to her own 'borderline' anorexia and 'forgetting to eat' over the last few weeks and now Nic has conveniently linked the horses condition with Liz 'forgetting to eat'. Has she been 'forgetting' to feed Lizzie too?
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Old 04-02-2013, 13:47
cathrin
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Judging by the Mail Online comments, most people seem as shocked and appalled as we are re the animals situation. But it's depressing to see how many people are falling for it too (...assuming those comments are genuine, that is). Amid all the justified criticisms, there are some gushing comments saying "Aww, her heart's in the right place, anyone who cares so much for animals deserves respect, this has made me see her in a new light" etc.

....Do these people not read what she's actually written? All the shocking irresponsible behaviour that has allowed these animals to get into such a state?....Do they just see the nice pictures of ickle fluffy animals, think "Ahh, she loves animals," and form their opinion based on that?

Increasingly, she seems to be using her animals in the same way she uses her family: by filling her column with stories of their illnesses, accidents and tragedies, thus gaining sympathy for herself . And, of course, distracting readers from when she's been especially nasty and spiteful. Because hey, you can't criticise an animal-lover, can you?

A lot of the Mail Online posters seem to have been mentioning the RSPCA. Some of her descriptions of the animals' suffering have been so extreme, it's genuinely shocking. But because she's writing about it all purely in terms of how it affects her, she seems to have completely overlooked the fact that she's making people aware of something that shows her in such a bad light.
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Old 04-02-2013, 14:18
coldcomfort
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IN WHICH I GET SUMMONED

So. After all my back-breakingly hard work and toil, this is how I get repaid. Let me explain. I was opening tins of caviar for the cats, and jars of truffles for the puppies, when my Blackberry beeped. It was my boss. 'Liz.' he began, 'I need you to attend a meeting. It is very important.' Wow, I thought. My constant slog has finally been recognised and I'm going to get a pay rise. Brilliant! I carefully selected my outfit. Alexander McQueen trouser suit, craftily taken in with safety pins, and my brand new sparkly Jimmy Choo slingbacks - a snip at £650. When I got to my boss's office, I sashayed in and sat on a sumptious leather chair, looking at him expectantly. He coughed. 'Ahem. I am not sure how to broach this, although I have wanted to for some time. It is about the Diary, actually.' I bristled. 'What about my Diary?' I snarled. 'Liz. It has become a parody. Complete unknowns are writing caricatures about it. Mad spoofs if you like, and it is getting embarrassing. You have started on the sick and injured animals nonsense again. Kizzy, or Dizzy or whatever that bloody horse is called, now seems to be on its last scrawny legs. And once again with the dogs. This time one has its leg carved down to the tendons. I, er . . .' I cut in, close to tears by now but also enraged with his lack of humility. 'How dare you!' I seethed. 'Those animals are my bread and soft butter! If I did not keep them going long past their sell by date, I would not have any copy to file!' He shifted uncomfortably in his Jasper Conran, buttery soft leather chair. 'Exactly my point, Liz. Our readers do not really want to read about a menagarie of clapped-out hounds and nags. They want to hear about the Rock Star and whether or not he is a real person. Please try to understand my concerns. The Diary is in real danger of getting pulled.' I narrowed my eyes at him for a full ten seconds, then gave him both barrels. 'How dare you, you horrid, middle-aged high-income married man! I bet your wife is rifling your pockets as we speak, looking for hotel bills and jewellery receipts as evidence of your treachery! When I thnk of all I have done for you, working harder than anyone else on the planet, putting in 180-hour-weeks and not taking a holiday in over fifty years! Of course the Rock Star exists - I've had posters of him on my bloody wall for years! You have not heard the last about this!' With that, I snatched up my Michael Kors tote and stormed from his office, although I could have sworn he muttered something about wanting to hear the last of me! Cretin! By now my Jimmy Choos were starting to chafe my bunions and the slingbacks had rubbed my heels so much, it felt like twin blow torches were scorching my flesh. Well, a girl has to suffer for beauty, doesn't she? When I reached my car, I heard my Blackberry beep. It was him. 'My fair maiden.' he had typed. 'I have penned a madrigal for you, telling the world about my love and devotion. It is to be aired on Classical FM on Valentine's Day. Will you marry me, my darling girl?' Tears of rage glazed my eyes. 'Why don't you just f**k off!' I hissed. Why is my life so awful? Why am I denied happiness like everyone else when all I do is try to bring joy into their lives. Why, dear God. Why?
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Old 04-02-2013, 14:27
Fatsia
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Bravo, coldcomfort!
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Old 04-02-2013, 14:55
newbaby
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IN WHICH I GET SUMMONED

So. After all my back-breakingly hard work and toil, this is how I get repaid. Let me explain. I was opening tins of caviar for the cats, and jars of truffles for the puppies, when my Blackberry beeped. It was my boss. 'Liz.' he began, 'I need you to attend a meeting. It is very important.' Wow, I thought. My constant slog has finally been recognised and I'm going to get a pay rise. Brilliant! I carefully selected my outfit. Alexander McQueen trouser suit, craftily taken in with safety pins, and my brand new sparkly Jimmy Choo slingbacks - a snip at £650. When I got to my boss's office, I sashayed in and sat on a sumptious leather chair, looking at him expectantly. He coughed. 'Ahem. I am not sure how to broach this, although I have wanted to for some time. It is about the Diary, actually.' I bristled. 'What about my Diary?' I snarled. 'Liz. It has become a parody. Complete unknowns are writing caricatures about it. Mad spoofs if you like, and it is getting embarrassing. You have started on the sick and injured animals nonsense again. Kizzy, or Dizzy or whatever that bloody horse is called, now seems to be on its last scrawny legs. And once again with the dogs. This time one has its leg carved down to the tendons. I, er . . .' I cut in, close to tears by now but also enraged with his lack of humility. 'How dare you!' I seethed. 'Those animals are my bread and soft butter! If I did not keep them going long past their sell by date, I would not have any copy to file!' He shifted uncomfortably in his Jasper Conran, buttery soft leather chair. 'Exactly my point, Liz. Our readers do not really want to read about a menagarie of clapped-out hounds and nags. They want to hear about the Rock Star and whether or not he is a real person. Please try to understand my concerns. The Diary is in real danger of getting pulled.' I narrowed my eyes at him for a full ten seconds, then gave him both barrels. 'How dare you, you horrid, middle-aged high-income married man! I bet your wife is rifling your pockets as we speak, looking for hotel bills and jewellery receipts as evidence of your treachery! When I thnk of all I have done for you, working harder than anyone else on the planet, putting in 180-hour-weeks and not taking a holiday in over fifty years! Of course the Rock Star exists - I've had posters of him on my bloody wall for years! You have not heard the last about this!' With that, I snatched up my Michael Kors tote and stormed from his office, although I could have sworn he muttered something about wanting to hear the last of me! Cretin! By now my Jimmy Choos were starting to chafe my bunions and the slingbacks had rubbed my heels so much, it felt like twin blow torches were scorching my flesh. Well, a girl has to suffer for beauty, doesn't she? When I reached my car, I heard my Blackberry beep. It was him. 'My fair maiden.' he had typed. 'I have penned a madrigal for you, telling the world about my love and devotion. It is to be aired on Classical FM on Valentine's Day. Will you marry me, my darling girl?' Tears of rage glazed my eyes. 'Why don't you just f**k off!' I hissed. Why is my life so awful? Why am I denied happiness like everyone else when all I do is try to bring joy into their lives. Why, dear God. Why?
Plaudits and applause (actually, a standing ovation). Absolutely.100%. Brilliant.

(the madrigal?: inspired)
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Old 04-02-2013, 15:21
coldcomfort
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Thank you, kind harpies, for your praise. The spoofs only take about ten minutes to type (with mistakes, I know ), so what wor Lizard does with the other 79-odd hours in her 'working' week, Christ only knows. But then, she's so 'busy and important' . . .
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Old 04-02-2013, 15:32
Seabird
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Truly brilliant Coldcomfort and bang on the money, I do hope that this scenario has indeed taken place or will do sooner rather than later and great cameo by the RS!
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Old 04-02-2013, 16:50
Sarah Soreen
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IN WHICH I GET SUMMONED

So. After all my back-breakingly hard work and toil, this is how I get repaid. Let me explain. I was opening tins of caviar for the cats, and jars of truffles for the puppies, when my Blackberry beeped. It was my boss. 'Liz.' he began, 'I need you to attend a meeting. It is very important.' Wow, I thought. My constant slog has finally been recognised and I'm going to get a pay rise. Brilliant! I carefully selected my outfit. Alexander McQueen trouser suit, craftily taken in with safety pins, and my brand new sparkly Jimmy Choo slingbacks - a snip at £650. When I got to my boss's office, I sashayed in and sat on a sumptious leather chair, looking at him expectantly. He coughed. 'Ahem. I am not sure how to broach this, although I have wanted to for some time. It is about the Diary, actually.' I bristled. 'What about my Diary?' I snarled. 'Liz. It has become a parody. Complete unknowns are writing caricatures about it. Mad spoofs if you like, and it is getting embarrassing. You have started on the sick and injured animals nonsense again. Kizzy, or Dizzy or whatever that bloody horse is called, now seems to be on its last scrawny legs. And once again with the dogs. This time one has its leg carved down to the tendons. I, er . . .' I cut in, close to tears by now but also enraged with his lack of humility. 'How dare you!' I seethed. 'Those animals are my bread and soft butter! If I did not keep them going long past their sell by date, I would not have any copy to file!' He shifted uncomfortably in his Jasper Conran, buttery soft leather chair. 'Exactly my point, Liz. Our readers do not really want to read about a menagarie of clapped-out hounds and nags. They want to hear about the Rock Star and whether or not he is a real person. Please try to understand my concerns. The Diary is in real danger of getting pulled.' I narrowed my eyes at him for a full ten seconds, then gave him both barrels. 'How dare you, you horrid, middle-aged high-income married man! I bet your wife is rifling your pockets as we speak, looking for hotel bills and jewellery receipts as evidence of your treachery! When I thnk of all I have done for you, working harder than anyone else on the planet, putting in 180-hour-weeks and not taking a holiday in over fifty years! Of course the Rock Star exists - I've had posters of him on my bloody wall for years! You have not heard the last about this!' With that, I snatched up my Michael Kors tote and stormed from his office, although I could have sworn he muttered something about wanting to hear the last of me! Cretin! By now my Jimmy Choos were starting to chafe my bunions and the slingbacks had rubbed my heels so much, it felt like twin blow torches were scorching my flesh. Well, a girl has to suffer for beauty, doesn't she? When I reached my car, I heard my Blackberry beep. It was him. 'My fair maiden.' he had typed. 'I have penned a madrigal for you, telling the world about my love and devotion. It is to be aired on Classical FM on Valentine's Day. Will you marry me, my darling girl?' Tears of rage glazed my eyes. 'Why don't you just f**k off!' I hissed. Why is my life so awful? Why am I denied happiness like everyone else when all I do is try to bring joy into their lives. Why, dear God. Why?
FANTASTIC!!

You should produce a rival Diary taking off her weekly contribution of drivel on a weekly basis and post it every Sunday afternoon
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