I am in the middle of writing my report on the Winter Olympics for the “Mogadishu Mercury” by the blue telephone ringing. It is Camilla. I settle down to listen to what I suspect will be several hours of her moaning about not being in the limelight.
“It’s not as if we haven’t all got diaries, duckie”, she commences, “but who wants to know about your holiday in
“Is there any chance of reading your diaries in the tabloids in the coming months, you old ratbag?” I enquire.
“It would be a damn site more interesting if they were”, she retorts, “I have just written 4 paragraphs on the tattoo that Sophie Wessex has on her arse, and I skipped the less savoury details, such as what Cliff Richard was doing with his fist.”
I don’t bother to talk to Charles, it never helps either of us much.
I was just snuggling up with a cup of cocoa and the Morning Star, when William is the next telephonic interrupter. “Hey ho, Bill, how’s it hanging?” He is preoccupied. “This diary thing, yeah, you just have to write down what you have done each day, yeah?”
“Yes, Billy boy, but don’t use the same diary that your secretary uses to write down what you are going to be doing, get a new one”. Pause while future head of state tries to accommodate the concept of more than one book.
“OK, I see, and then do I get to sell it to the newspapers?”
“Yes, Bill, but you will only get lots of money for it if you exaggerate, and concentrate on writing about sex. With women rather than with yourself, if you want my advice.”
I expect to see the fruits of my counsel reach the Mail on Sunday in about eight weeks. Perhaps a little longer if he fails to master the art of using the pointed end of the pencil.
11 comments:
There goes the empire...
Gosh, just me and you then Vici... I think you might have to go and eat worms.
I suspect that the rest of them are less than sympathetic about the plight of the monarchy.
I will not have to eat worms, because I conquered.
Conquered whom? Is this one of your ‘Working Classes are Revolting’ thoughts?
And take that worm out of your mouth, just because you are under appreciated there's no need to take everything so literally.
I’m sure your legends of (scary) fans will lurch up right from their tombs on Monday; in the meantime I remain your fan. Most of the time.
Conquered refers to the sobriquet by which you addressed me earlier.
Do try to pay attention. I know you are reaching the end of the sabbath down there, and are exhausted from the pig juggling service at the local Baptist chapel, but I do have certain standards.
*Caroline in unavailable right now, she is currently attending the Baptise My Pig - They're Human Too! Ceremony at Snake-pit lake and can then be found at I Useta Hava Life (free pop corn and internet access) record store in Arid, Minnesota signing copies of her latest blog entry. Leave a message and she might get right back to you. *
Zoe, you and he are royalty. You can get someone to write for you.
i wonder if billy can actually write.
i can't, not since the invention of the computer.
Zoe, sweetie, as royalty neither you nor he have to know how to write. You can get someone to do it for you.
Can anyone join in? I mean the non-worm-eating, non-pig-baptizing plebs? Could swallow a lizard or two I suppose; the dog does.
Granny, we have had to have words with you before about doing things that the dog does, haven't we?
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