Priceless! Especially the bit in bold, which practically reduced me to tears of laughter. Thank you, CC for brightening a chilly Monday. Hilarious stuff!

I'm just watching the video of her on This Morning talking about nicking spear. She's unbelievable. I love the grilling she's getting from Phillip and Holly, and the lady next to her.

IN WHICH MY MOTHER IS STILL BLOODY ALIVE

Mini Poopy and Shizzy and all my adorable fur-children waved goodbye to me at my rented gate in that Yorkshire as I dabbed my £895.39p shooboots across the rutted dales to my, or somebody I borrowed it off's, Landrover.

Mother has been calling for me. Why me, why ME. If only she would do the loving thing and die then people might feel sorry for me and stop treating me badly in shops. NOW she decides to remember who I am! I expect she's been telling the whole hospital my real date of birth and if that gets out the RS will squint piggily and disappear. Because everyone leaves me, even when I buy them cashmere tea bags.

My drunken old sister who falls over a lot has been threatening to sue me. Why me? WHY ME? I am going to start a campaign to make it legal to marry animals, and then Mickey the Cross Border Terrier and I can make our union legal. But if he leaves the seat up or dribbles on the cashmere table cloth, I will divorce him.

Oops, meant sperm.

Thank God she didn't end up pregnant.

Fantastic!



I only wish I had half your imagination. Very well done please give us more!

Another cracking post!



I hope the Daily Mail is looking - these are MUCH more amusing than the drivel LJ spews out!

Hilarious!

She could still steal the sperm from the Border Collie.

3 February 2013^ and see: 15 January 2012... Lizzie the horse 'suddenly' becomes ill at opportune moments, imho. LJ's decided to give mothers a rest this week, focusing instead on trolling animal lovers. If she can sell most of her human brethren down the river, why not 'exploit' her pets? I tend to agree with an earlier poster who suggested that LJ operates in cycles: obnoxious->my animals are dying, therefore I'm a lovely person -> obnoxious, etc.

^ unlike its original author


^ thus allowing LJ to focus entirely on prolonging the lives of her various knackered pets
(10/10, both )

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.

Does no one think of the earwigs ?!?

Another brilliant spoof, the BIB particularly inspired Brings back Liz's mercy mission to Somalia, shouting at a poor boy who had somehow managed to find her a jar of Nescafe (what, no Illy?!) because he had used a whip on his donkey and then the classic line about trying to find a 'photogenic child' for the publicity photos. I always think you can't out-spoof the real Liz but these truly laugh out loud examples have just proved some of you can.

Cashmere tea bags? The mind boggles. Why would you want fur in your tea?

BIB: I am absolutely WETTING myself laughing here. I laughed at that sentence alone for a full 5 minutes!!

Hello. My name is Jess and I'm 117 years old (that's in dog years). Let me tell you a little about my life, although I can't type a great deal as it's difficult using my arthritic claws. I get very bored and lonely, as myself and my dog and cat companions are left alone for long periods when Mummy goes off to work really hard all over the world. The younger, naughtier dogs spend a good deal of time chewing and destroying Mummy's furniture, even though I tell them not to, as I know she has spent thousands of pounds on it. She paid a rare visit home the other week, but we all cowered as we could tell she was very angry - one of the dogs started to wee all over the place she was that scared. Mummy was drinking some fizzy stuff from a green bottle and slumped further into the sofa as the night wore on. Then her Blackberry beeped and she got even more cross. 'Whaddya mean you're not impreshed? I filed it on time dinnah? What more dya want?' Her voice sounded strange and whoever rang her was really upsetting her, as she suddenly jumped up and started swearing - lots. 'I am the Columnisht of the - hic - yeaaar! F**k you, arshehole!' Mummy threw her Blackberry across the room and trod on one of the cat's tails as she weaved her way up to our bedroom. We all followed, hoping that she might have set out individual pots of Harrod's prawns on the cashmere bedspread for us, but, apart from a layer of dog and cat hair, there was nothing else there. Huddling on and around Mummy's bony frame in the bed, we looked at each other with wide, frightened eyes. 'What will happen to us, Michael, if Mummy loses her job?' I whispered. 'Shush, Jess. That will never happen as long as those other people write her stuff when she's incapable, like now.' I stared at the posters on Mummy's bedroom walls - long-haired men wearing leather cat-suits and others in leggings and baggy coats. They must be her friends but none have ever come to visit us. I would love to be able to jump up and greet them, leaving potato-print paw marks on their Prada t-shirts. Oh, well. Woof!

P.S. Fabulous posts BellaFiga!

Coldcomfort, you evil genius, your latest spoof has actually made me tearful as well as laugh, as before there is sadly a lot of truth in what you write and who knows what it going on in those poor animals' heads never mind Liz's. Bravo, I now have to read it all again (with a tissue handy).

Laughing and sniffing here too. How is that even possible?

Sheer class.

IN WHICH I OUT THE RS

I value my privacy as if it were platinum. (Conversely, other people's privacy is like Elizabeth Duke jewellery and can treated like an Argos catalogue.) But I have kept you all on tenterhooked eggshells long enough. Everywhere I go I hear people whispering. And sometimes I hear the words "should be in put in the stocks" but perhaps they are saying "should be in cashmere socks". My hearing is bad, you know.

Anyway, all my family died. And my horse got laryngitis. I was all alone, feeding Harrods prime pilchards to Mini Poopy, Mickey and Flange, my new stray sheep, when I heard the impatient purring of His Maserati.

OH FCK I thought. WHY ME WHY NOW. "Darling girl," he said piggily, in his delightful Highland brogue, "I've had enough of this cloak and dagger business, I'm going to out myself. I'm going to tell the world how proud I am to be at your borderline-anorexic side". Twenty five years ago I would have swooned at such words. I flicked a pilchard head off the Egyptian cotton sheets.

Oh fcuk it, I thought. I'm going to have to come clean. OK. He's the lead singer in Black Lace. Happy now?

....Very

That explains a lot - he's been dead since 1995. Would explain his lack of embarrassment at being the subject of her columns.

haha I thought I'd better choose someone who couldn't sue...