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Monday, 3 February 2014

In which One is exhausted…

Would you Christmas Eve it?

One has had a bad, bad, baddington day.  First, One found a mouldy satsuma tucked between the folds of the lining in me Mulberry…

AND THEN…

The fecking exhaust fell of the car! 

Never mind, ‘please find it in your hearts to send two pounds per month for sad donkeys, starving children, poorly pussies and neglected dogs…

Send £430 to Lovely One immediately so that One can biff about in the Bentley.

One won’t be taking to the truckle bed in order to sulk as One knows One’s public needs One, now that One is on the wireless twice this week.

And then…

One will be selling favours to the value of a Volvo S80 exhaust, so One will be tied up (literally) for the remainder of the decade.

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