Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Wednesday 27th January 1873

Dear reader,

What a turn up for the books. A mysterious cloaked man leapt over the gardan wall last night. He had flaming eyes and a scary sword, and warned me I would soon meet my death under suspicious circumstances. He was WELL flirting with me! My new corset is obvious working! It has a built in kidney reducers.

Went into town to do some shopping yesterday. Bought lots of jam. Mainly beetroot. I heard it was Lord Primark's favourite flavour, and am thinking of making him a beetroot banquet. Beetroot pie, Beetroot icecream, Beetroot squeezy cheese. I certinely know the way to a mans heart. I practised kissing my hairbrush for 8 hours yesterday, so that when I become Lady Primark, I will be prepared for tickly moustacheness.

A letter from my estranged Uncle, the Count of Morrisons (he owns a large chain of food emporiums) arrived this morning. It was marked "muahahahaha!". I fear he could soon come back to Britain and lock me in an attic. But that may work out well, it shall be fine practise for when I am married.

I shall retire now, dear reader. One of the squirrels from the garden seems to be following me. Or perhaps I've just gone mad from all the opium I consume...

Saturday, 23 January 2010

Saturday, 23rd January, 1873

Dear Reader,

A letter arrived from Lord Primark today. How I wooped for joy! Or possibly it might have been my whooping cough. The Letter explained how he recently set up his own clothing emporium for the poor, and would I like to come to the opening?

Would I? WOULD I!? Of Course not, I might get poor germs! But I decided it would be rude not to (I am a Lady, after all), and thus headed down to the shop, in deepest, murkiest London. In order to ensure that I did NOT get Poor Germs, I wrapped myself in bubble wrap, soaked in smirnoff ice (a reputable cure for poorness), and held my nose the entire time.

Lord Primark was delighted to see me (who wouldnt be? I'm VERY rich), even though I smelt a bit like smirnoff ice, and showed me round the shop. It was like a normal shop for ladies, only all the clothes were dirty and ragged and made by tiny children in India, or another glorious Empire country.

"Lord Primark", says I, through heavy nasal blockage "are you purposfully exploiting and ripping-off the poor, by selling them shoddy and badly made items?"

"Yes, yes I am! Muhahahahah!" He said, laughing and twiddling his moustache in an evil fashion

"How wonderful!" I said, and off we roared in his sports carriage.

On a more crucial note, it has been discovered that my Ladies' Maid and the Head Gardner are having an affair!!! I didnt even know poor people HAD genitals!

More soon, dear reader, I have to go and stare mournfully out of a window now.

Friday, 22 January 2010

Friday, 22nd January 1873- Stricken

Dear Reader,

I am terribly ill. My eyes feel heavy, my nose is twitchy, and I keep nodding off. My Ladies Maid kindly suggested it might be that I was simply tired, but after I repeatedly beat her with my umbrella, she saw sense and agreed that it was definetly-


Thats right! For weeks now, speculation has suggested that Britains will be struck down by a truly deadly diease. They are calling it peacock 'flu, and I'm sure that it will strike down AT LEAST 3 people. I myself must now retire to bed to wait out this dreaded illness.

On a lighter note, the lurgi HAS killed 18 million poor people. Hip hip hoorah for Britain!

Wednesday, 13 January 2010

Wednesday the 13th Janurary, 1873

Rising early this morning (12.30pm), I opened my paper, The Gentle Lady (it has the corners rounded off so Ladies don't hurt their fingers) to discover a shocking scandal! Brace yourself reader, for the news of the century!

It appears that some of the gentlmen of the House of Lords have been taking some of the money they have been allowed for the buying of newspapers and ink and small boys to use as footstools-and INSTEAD, have spent it on frivolities! Here are just some of the things purchased:

one small ornatmental lawn giraffe (plus cage and feeding equipment)
two cockney pearlie kings
one large print naughty comic (the adventurs of winky the dog and his owner the bishop of bath and wells), purchased on behalf of an MP's butler
A wide screen print of Milais "Scrictly Come Dancing"
An iphonograph
3 bottles of Dennis' Home Brew ( a beer made from grass and horse glue)
A giant novetly monocle (though Lord Stains insists he has very bad eyesight)
Some bagpipes made of marmalade
and, most horrifically of all, A train ticket to Milton Keynes

Shocking, I know. Gone are the days when MP's will use their money wisely and spend it on Palaces for Ducks, or a massive estate in wales. What HAS the world come to? I feel a faint coming on...

Welcome, Dear Readers

Dear Readers, I welcome both of you to my memoirs-my life has been an exciting one-brekfast in the mornings, tea in the afternoon, and those cheesy biscuits between meals. I have ridden on trains, arranged flowers and once I rescued a squirrel from a badger with gangrene. But enough of these frivolities! In these pages, you will discover many of my adventures, including the time I saw some poor people, and my journey to egypt, where I discovered firsthand that some people are a slightly more browny shade of pink than we in Great Britain. You may also get to hear of my romance with Lord Primark, and how my evil Uncle, the Count of Morrisons, almost foiled our plans for marriage. Happy readings, and I wish you every success,

yours humbly, Lady Waitrose Selfridge, of Mayfair, RRD, MB, QI, LED, WTF