Why has she never mentioned she was stood up on Millenium Eve before?
Didn't her former house also have no fridge? In which case you would think it would be a priority to get one this time.

No it's the pricy oil she always puts in her bath. I can't remember what it's called but maybe they pulled the deal with her so she has to buy it now instead of getting freebies.

Poor Liz, no Bamford bath oil or Diptyque candles ? She might have to flog some buttery soft Michael Kors leather handbags to keep body and soul together

... and maybe she won't be able any longer to have her two pairs of knickers dry-cleaned [shudders].

So DM finally let some comments through 2 days after the dreary appears and people have been discussing the lack of comments

Yet almost all posted comments are critical and many think she shuld give up the dreary - even her most rabid fans don't seem to bother - or perhaps DM is using the comments to prepare us for the dreary's demise

I've submitted a comment but I doubt they'll publish it. Basically I was saying this is all nonsense about "I won't be picked up at the airport". She's on a work trip so surely transport to and from the airport would be covered? And if she needs to stay overnight in London before returning to Yorkshire, surely that would be covered. If the Mail were paying her extortionate rent in London, they would almost certainly bung her some dosh for a train or hotel room. It's just more ridiculous poor poor me drama, and it doesn't wash..

Yes the poor me is getting annoying and she should be able to claim for expenses or claim them back against taxes so she's unlikely to be out of pocket

It could be that she is facing a change of contract. She was on a very lucrative deal before with high salary and additional benefits such as the apartment (hence the huge tax bill). But DM seem to have scaled back her contributions to the paper and possibly unlikely to renew on the same terms now that there are more pressure on profits and not to mention competition from blogs etc. She may be facing a drop in salary or a transfer to freelance status.

Another thought - I wonder if she was hoping to claim the travel and subsistance and then spend the unused cash on oily baths/smelly candles/vet bills?

Never mind - there is always the novel

Oh the novel! I am counting the minutes.

Girl On a Horse

Beth shook her midnight stormy barnet and mounted her Horse. Nobody understood her like this animal. Every nip on her slender, cashmere-sockleted, ankles meant something. To her anyway. She could communicate with Horse. Better than with any man. Better even than with Windy Miller, whom she had loved so hard once, and now who loved her hard (but not too hard unless there was lube).

I doubt the CRISIS has much, or anything to do with the DM actually because they wouldn't print this if it did. And I can't see her writing about it that way.

The CRISIS obviously has legal implications - hence her keeping her mouth shut about the details, she's being made to - and involves at least one person. I think someone is sueing her. If not that, it's a dispute of some kind, related to a former minion or family member,

Didn't she once boast about getting sued several times each year? Not sure that I am remembering correctly. ??

Hope that the hearing dogs organization sues DM for using their logo/livery in the article about Liz's 4 "hearing dogs"

You rang?

Private Eye 1378/31Oct-13Nov2014, page 9


[Following BIB paraphrased as DS rules forbid reproduction of whole articles> ]
To which Liz Jones replied the following weekend:

Wonder if THE CRISIS is something to do with her ex agent? Didn't she moan some Drearies or Farticles ago that she and agent are no longer together?

Disgraceful as her fibbing about her 'Hearing Dogs' is, implying they were officially trained, I can't see that it's a litigious matter. But bearing in mind the people she's constantly vile about - the Baker's ex girlfriend, her relatives, hapless people she considers her 'underlings', such as call centre staff, shop assistants, spa staff - take your pick. And I'm wondering if she's settled her outstanding debts when she departed her house in Exmoor.

Beth glided into her non-existent kitchen, her walk the envy of supermodels everywhere. She pulled a bag of frozen peas from the freezer (which refused to become non-existent no matter how hard she tried), took a pea from the bag, and left it on the windowsill to defrost - on a Limoges plate, of course. Calling her pack of sheep-worrying amateur hour hearing dogs to her side, she went upstairs to find something to wear. Her heart sank. Curse Victoria Beckham and her flinty heart - WHY did she keep refusing to allow Beth to attend her fashion shows, and to blag some free goodies? How could Beth show her face in anything less than VB's 2015 Spring Collection Cami Mini? No wonder the Baker no longer found her attractive. Her loins warmed at the thought of him - but she firmly put those thoughts aside. 'Not until the other pair of knickers comes back from the cleaners,' she murmured. And then one of the dogs stress-wee'd on the bed.

Beth had read in a highly glossy magazine that fresh urine reversed the ageing process. She rarely produced any of her own, but seeing the yellow circle on the Egyptian cotton duvet cover, she rubbed her face and decolletage in it. At this moment, Windy Miller came through the bedroom door. Beth was arse upwards, making "umph" sounds into the wee.

"What the holy **** are you doing, woman?" said Windy, rolling a large fag.

Beth looked up, her midnight storm hair all awry with wee-wee.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE ME WHEN I WAS YOUNG?" she shrieked, like a thousand banshees. "IT'S YOUR FAULT I HAVE TO PUT MY FACE IN WEE. WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE ME?"

Windy Miller shrugged and went to defrost another pea.

I'm guessing her "qualified animal behaviourist" is Nic. Back in 2009, when someone (later revealed to be four local boys) took a few pot shots at her letter box, Nic was referred to as an "equine behaviourist".

Posted the above on 29/11/13, since when, WAGFree Foods doesn't seem to have improved its standing that much: a first dissolution was (again) listed on April 29th, and while the striking off letter was suspended on June 6th, it wasn't cancelled as was the case previously. As for the accounts being filed late - nope, they're listed as overdue from June 30th last year. Maybe this might be the CRISIS ??

I can't see Liz getting herself involved in the Baker's business - not to CRISIS level - and keeping quiet about it. She'd be alternately haranguing him for not taking good advice/expecting her to care when she has so many pressing worries of her own and attacking whoever she thinks is to blame other than him. Why would she have someone to name and shame?

Hmm, on the other hand, maybe she's so overinvolved that she thinks it's entirely appropriate to slag off someone she feels has harmed her boyfriend's business, in print.

Especially if, as you suggest, she's plonked a huge wad of cash into the business nad is losing it.

Hmmm, let me think ... who was it who wrote about The Baker's less than appetising fingernails and body odour of stale fags ...? Surely this could not have harmed 'his' business! Could it?

the story continues:

.... Beth shuddered. 'Oh, Fido,' she wailed as she aimed one of her Manolos at the hapless hound . 'How COULD you? You've peed on my organic vegan line-caught cruelty-free humanely shot tiger skin throw ... '. Distraught, she threw herself down on the defiled bed. Her seventeen cats, sensing her distress as only lovely lickle sweet puddy-tats can, leapt on her with claws and teeth akimbo, and ripped and ripped at her recumbent, prone body. "No no no NOOOOO ..." she shrieked. "You furry bastards! I'M WEARING MY VB DRESS! And you've ruined it!'

Enraged, she rose from the tumultuous pile of yowling cats and, tossing her home-dyed 'Stormy Wevver' hair (available in Boots, special offer of three packs for two, on the Garnier Fructis shelf) and stalked out of the bedroom. The Baker was cowering on the Abigunk Hellherne sofa, a plate containing half a pea balanced on his arthritic knees. 'Er, hello, darling,' he mumbled. 'Everything OK? Here's you dinner. By the way, Michael the Hearing Dog just tried to hump Lizzie the Horse and that Romanian dog with no teeth dragged in a little baa-lamb a few minutes ago and - well - seemed a shame to waste it, so if I could take it back to my shop, be nice for a Brixton 'take' on Cornish Pasties and - oh yes - my gold Dunhill lighter has gone missing, yup, another one, ha ha, silly old me, aren't I the careless one! And I really really NEED a gold Dunhill lighter, I don't know how to use those thingies them proles use called 'matches' '.
.
With a nonchalent toss of her tumbling 'Stormy Wevver' dyed locks (did she mention it's available at Boots, three packs for price of two, on the Garnier Fructis shelf?) Beth sank down on the Abigunk Hellherne sofa next to her beloved. 'Darling ...' she breathed. 'You made dinner. You spoil me! A whole pea! What did I do to deserve you, even though you didn't take any notice of me sixty years ago .. you bastard, I stayed up all night, waiting, waiting for you to come back. And, another thing, you never brought back that tennis bat you borrowed ....'

Her facelift crumpled into a Botoxed simulacrum of an expression of discontent. The Baker sighed. 'I can't do anythink right, can I?'

The Baker decided that enough was enough. If he could turn back time, of course he wouldn't have ignored her 30, 40, however many years ago it was. But in the absence of a TARDIS he couldn't do much about it. He packed his possession in a spotted bandana and attached it to a stick (not realising it was a designer stick bought specially for the Hearing Dogs) and trotted on his way back to thatLondon. If he started walking now, he would be there by Thursday.

Beth said nothing. She was in the throes of a major sulk and was spikily typing I DO NOT THINK I FANCY HIM ANY MORE. HE SMELLS OF BRIXTON AND DOESN'T HAVE AS MANY TEETH AS ONE SHOULD. ALSO WHERE IS MY TENNIS BAT.

Beth stood on the doorstep of The Baker's not-so-luxury Brixton pad. She felt faint - the journey south had not been a good one, what with the strange man with the trolley constantly trying to get her to buy horrid meat filled sandwiches, or a cup of tea. Didn't he know that hot drinks were only for the weak?? The hall light switched on, backlighting the figure walking towards the door. Of course, being profoundly deaf, she couldn't hear his footsteps. The door swung open, and The Baker stood there, saying nothing. Beth held up her peace offering. "Look darling, I got you a vegan lightbulb for the bathroom!' He didn't speak. Her heart pounded. Was it finally over? And what was that in his hand? Was it her tennis bat??

Back Up North, Nic-nac checked the GPS tracker on Beth's phone. So, she'd weakened and gone to Brixton had she? Time to step up her plan to spli the modern-day Romeo and juliet up for good!

Today's misery-fest. She expresses more emotion over this horse than her mother. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/...th-family.html

Thanks for the link - I've just tried to get to today's article on my computer via Mail Online/You Mag tag, but I can only see last week's! For a moment I even wondered if 'something' had happened and there was no offering this week....!!! (Anyone else had the same problem today or just me? )

ETA: BIB - it does appear that way, doesn't it.

'My face leaked water.' That is all.

I had the same problem.