Last night I attended the most delightful concert with my friend Lady Fanny Sparkler. The musicians in question were a popular four piece band known as "Take That, you blaggard!" They perform their songs whilst thrusting and parrying with their swords, in a most energetic way. I myself got quite hot under the collar, I can tell you!
After they had performed several requests, including "Smack my bitch up" "Gangsta Paradise", and my personal favourite, "Have a wombling merry christmas", Fanny and I retired to the refreshments.
"You simply must tell me how its going with Lord Primark! Has he taken you roughly in the shrubbery yet?"
"No, but I did let him trim my rhododendron bush the other day" I said coyly-Oh, to reveal ones personal details!
As we talked (and once Fanny had shown me her new and unusual piercing) I noticed someone apperead to be hanging around the punch bowel, listening in on our conversation! Sipping my WKD delicately, I realised at once who it was! None other than my evil Uncle, the Count of Morrisons! How dare he listen to my private conversations! As I fumed in a delicate and lady like manner, fanning myself and fainting in an angry way, the Count sidled over to us.
"Ah, good evening. I do hope your enjoying yourselves" He said this in a way which would sugges that this was exactly what he didnt hope at all!
"I just wanted to say, ahem, muahahahaha." He twiddled his moustache and leered "And also, that you and your lover will soon meet a horrible death, by which time I can get my hands on your enourmous fortune!"
"Was that a euphamism?" enquired Miss Sparkler.
"No, she explained that in her last post" Said my uncle impatiently. "Do try the pringles, they're sour cream and chive" And with a whisk of his cloak, he was off.
Dear reader, what am I to do? How shall I evade death at the hands of such a fellow? Oh, dear, dear me!
On a lighter note, Fanny has been explaining to me the latest craze of the upper middle class lady-lesbianism! It does sound delightful, and I may be trying it out in the future. Whatever next? Ahahahhahaha!
More later, dear reader, I must go and have my elbow bath.