Bonjour les enfants!
Now listen very carefully. I shall say this only once!!
I come to you from high in the hills of the Cote D’Azur. By now the news of my daring escape from prison has probably hit the tabloids. Let me clear one thing up. I did not strangle that guard with his own tie as the Daily Star reported. It was with a pair of Loose Lucy Longwood’s silk stockings, acquired after a late night session down the isolation wing. He had it coming anyway, the bastard. And trust him to get in the way just as I gave flight over the wall using the makeshift trampoline left behind by the HMP’s Travelling Circus.
I trust we are on a secure connection here and nobody is tapping in. My friend Connie Lingus, heir to the Aer Lingus fortune, flew me to the south of France, where I must remain Incognito until the smoke dies down. Or until the swelling goes down on my plastic surgery. That’s right, my dears. After years of swearing I would grow old gracefully I have had to resort to visiting Madonna’s dermatologist and ask for the Full Ciccone. When you see me next I shall have cheekbones bigger than my bosoms. Purely to remain unnoticed, you understand. I also asked him to tighten me up down south whilst I was there. Eight months in prison can do things to a lady’s suspension. How else is one to smuggle ornaments in for one’s cell?
I fear I’m being monitored at the moment so must dash for now. I have a local Rose chilling on ice waiting for me to pop her cork, not to mention a fine bottle of wine we’ll sup afterwards. So off I go but I shall return, fear not!
A bientot!
L x
Saturday 18 September 2010
Wednesday 6 January 2010
Prison Quickie!
Pssst. My darlings. I must keep it down as I come to you from my cell in Holloway Prison. My cellmate Lizzie the Lockpick is down the latrine lifting her legs for lags and fags so I thought I'd come online and send out a desperate plea. My ginger foe Winifred Sparrow tracked me down at the Jolie-Pitts on New Year's Eve and planted, dare I say it, HARD DRUGS on me en route to LAX Airport. It's a good job little Shiloh and his new brother Liloh weren't there, they'll put anything in their mouth that doesn't run away - they take after their Mother.
Anyway there I was with newly acquired Parakeet Perrinia and a skateboard I promised my darling nephew Alfonse, marching chin and nose skyward past the economy scum to the front of the boarding queue, when I was ACCOSTED by a broad shouldered beast of a woman called Shoniqua. It appears my case was a veritable pharmacy of Class A's, most of which I wouldn't be caught dead with at my time of life. I mean come on. Once you get to my age, Ketamin is akin to catnip. But after a humiliating encounter with a can of Criscoe and Shoniqua elbow deep whilst eating a Butterfinger bar with her free hand, it transpired that, even though I was clean inside, my troubles had just begun!
As it happens, the skateboard I had bought from a blind prostitute on Venice Beach was filled not with random graffiti as I'd thought, but top secret classified information meant for MI5, not your dear Lesbina. And there was some issue with Perrina being endangered but hell, that dumb bird got thrown over the escalator the minute Shoniqua made her beeline! So now here I am landed in Holloway selling my holiday snaps of Angelina's 'Naked New Year's Eve' party to horny dykes and dodging Debbie the Deep Diver in the dunny. But time is ticking away. The longer MI5 grill me, the closer they will come to realising that, although my skateboard purchase was an unfortunate accident, my history with the secret services runs deep and low. Let's not forget my stint with the KGB in 1982.
So my plea. One of you must find my ex colleague of the night and one time spiritual advisor, Martine Fennel-Teague! The last I heard she was sailing in the Ganges with Betty Boothroyd. She's busted me out of the big house before, she can do it again, sans Boothroyd.
Martine, if you're out there! SOS! Oh and I hear my ex-lover Stephanie Beacham has wound up in Big Brother. And I thought I had problems.
Send help. Send Martine. Lizzie the Lockpick is back. She has a limp. I'm in for it tonight.
God speed x
ps. Happy Cunting New Year.
Anyway there I was with newly acquired Parakeet Perrinia and a skateboard I promised my darling nephew Alfonse, marching chin and nose skyward past the economy scum to the front of the boarding queue, when I was ACCOSTED by a broad shouldered beast of a woman called Shoniqua. It appears my case was a veritable pharmacy of Class A's, most of which I wouldn't be caught dead with at my time of life. I mean come on. Once you get to my age, Ketamin is akin to catnip. But after a humiliating encounter with a can of Criscoe and Shoniqua elbow deep whilst eating a Butterfinger bar with her free hand, it transpired that, even though I was clean inside, my troubles had just begun!
As it happens, the skateboard I had bought from a blind prostitute on Venice Beach was filled not with random graffiti as I'd thought, but top secret classified information meant for MI5, not your dear Lesbina. And there was some issue with Perrina being endangered but hell, that dumb bird got thrown over the escalator the minute Shoniqua made her beeline! So now here I am landed in Holloway selling my holiday snaps of Angelina's 'Naked New Year's Eve' party to horny dykes and dodging Debbie the Deep Diver in the dunny. But time is ticking away. The longer MI5 grill me, the closer they will come to realising that, although my skateboard purchase was an unfortunate accident, my history with the secret services runs deep and low. Let's not forget my stint with the KGB in 1982.
So my plea. One of you must find my ex colleague of the night and one time spiritual advisor, Martine Fennel-Teague! The last I heard she was sailing in the Ganges with Betty Boothroyd. She's busted me out of the big house before, she can do it again, sans Boothroyd.
Martine, if you're out there! SOS! Oh and I hear my ex-lover Stephanie Beacham has wound up in Big Brother. And I thought I had problems.
Send help. Send Martine. Lizzie the Lockpick is back. She has a limp. I'm in for it tonight.
God speed x
ps. Happy Cunting New Year.
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