Allo Allo?

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