Firstly apologies, if you have received this more than once. We are still experiencing a few difficulties with our email delivery system. This is not a euphemism, let me make that clear, and that has nothing to do with the next paragraph. We will try to sort this out as quickly as our software team (Jake and me) resolve it.
So it is official, I am having a mid-life crisis, there’s a surprise….
However the cockles of my heart have been mightily warmed by your kind words regarding the newsletter and the coach crash that constitutes my life, including the afore mentioned mid-life crisis. Even one or two of you misguided souls have offered to step in and take over at certain times. Some of you are transparent.
Look guys it’s the only fun I get, so just join the ever growing queue behind me, your time will come or probably not depending on how generous I’m feeling. Which isn’t very!
I had been on a short list.
How dare they, I’ll have you know I’m taller than my own shadow when the sun is high in the sky.
Talking of shadows, I was running across Westminster Bridge when I looked down at the pavement, I nearly fell in to The Thames; at a certain time of day you can marvel at the shadows made by the of the cut outs in the ironwork? The cut outs are of three overlapping circles; just imagine how that image would look as a shadow stretched in one direction in the sunlight, pointing towards Parliament. Someone had some fun with that. As a former government Minister suggested to me, it would be the kind of place that they will dig up in 30,000 years from now and list as a sight of religious significance, a place where some people paid homage.
Anyway, back to that list with only a few people on it, not that I have a problem with my stature, I enjoy looking down upon Dear Silvio, and little Frankie de Hollande. Not that they pay homage to me.
The list I was on, was of London’s Best Dressed, note the ‘was’, and the best dressed what you might ask, Crab?
Well I had been on it until I posted those photos of me in the red lycra playsuit Emi lent me. I blame her; well she blames me for everything else. According to the rumours circulating on the internet, we are now married. Oooops, who started those rumours? Moi?
Anyway she’s not talking to me at the moment, not that I blame her.
How nicely I can segue that into my next topic. I have an ‘A’ list celebrity customer or so he considers himself, he’s not talking to me at the moment either; and after this probably never will again. But as he no longer gets the emails, he will be blissfully unaware of it…..
By all accounts I have been bombarding him with unsolicited emails of me in red lycra. He should be so lucky. It wasn’t the only photo in the piece, but obviously the only one he was drawn to. He is a monumental star, and so offended by the image of me in red lycra, that he has replied to my Newsletter twice, on both occasions within a matter of moments of receiving said email, which made me think, are the emails of my Newsletter coming through more frequently than Hollywood scripts?
Mig, do me a favour send him one of those scripts you send out as a joke.
Matthew who was in last week, had been laughing at the delivery of a hanging box, the contents of which appeared to be entirely for me. He said it reminded him of those meals you have delivered every day to assist you in losing weight; except only I could get a daily delivery of clothing ready to wear including freshly pressed panties. Apologies for that, but I just like how it sounds.
Jake the wag, then suggested that one day the box may arrive with a set of freshly pressed emperor’s new clothes. I’d be able to venture out in the altogether on my bike apart from and apron and a pair of flip flops. Just when is naked bike ride day this year? Please don’t go searching for images. IT will be at your desk before your desk before you can say, “My goodness isn’t that…?”
Cast your mind back to the 9th March; we had a very sunny day. Ollie was complaining and I agree; about pale, hairy legs, and dirty feet in sandals. Well you know my thoughts on that Dr Birkenstock!
I got up early that day, had a shower, a yoga session, a sauna, another shower, waxed my feet, a pedicure and a foot massage. My toenails were painted afresh, and eventually once the polish had dried, I donned a pair of linen trousers and driving shoes and wandered out into the DARK!!! What happened to the sunshine?
Then I remembered. I had forgotten to take into account the fact that it gets dark at six o’clock. My beauty regimen had taken so long that I had missed the daylight.
I was left to wander round the streets of London in the freezing cold.
Whence I encountered a Public House called “The Cock and Bull”, and on the chalkboard outside they were promoting a beer called Dirty Tackle. My immediate thought was that that was going absolutely nowhere near my mouth.
Talking of lovely weather, a friend and her friends are sunning themselves by a pool in Miami. Pah! Jealous moi? She was explaining that the book she was reading wasn’t challenging enough and required a little entertainment to pass the time.
I suggested the age old game of “Only Shoes”. This is a game where you have to imagine your fellow sun-worshippers, worshipping in nothing more than a pair of shoes, however, the more extravagant the better; sort of Carl Lewis in Red High Heels to give you a clue. Last time we spoke she was still drinking to forget the images she had formed.
I shall finish with a happy ending. This is the view as I shivered across Hungerford Bridge, it warmed me momentarily before I shuffled off in search of a pre-Christmas glass of mulled wine.
Remember only 289 sleeps till Christmas. Ta Jake, they’re still not going to get promoted.
Alan Pardew received a 7 game ban, 3 from the stadium and 4 from the lighted blue touch paper. Stand back there’ll be fireworks. Having said that, when I see Sig. Pardew at The Wolseley he is gentlemanliness personified, unlike the unsubscribed celebrity above.
Do you not know who I am? Well actually, No; not until you told me.
Let me finally add that those of you who have asked who I am in a relationship with, given my change of status on Facebook. It is with myself, it always has been, always will be. I love me.