OK yah

Oh hello there pet and lambs and members of Generations Jones, X, Whine and Zzzz. I hope you are well. I am having a bit of a May's almost over posting in cyberspace frenzy - two posts in 20 minutes you wouldn't credit it.

Johnson lent me Tina Brown’s the Diana Chronicles. It’s a top read about all them hons and vons.

At the mo Charles and D are still married, and, in between Deeeahna hurling (down the honker or herself down the stairs - yeah that’s a direct quote from Princess Michael of Kent to moi, confidente de luxe to SS offspring, me), Di’s suffering the interminable August hols at Sandringham with not much stoicism, some nights feature Princess Margaret entertaining the fam playing show tunes on the piahno until 2 a.m. - The thought of ma’am darling on the ivories singing songs from Camelot and High Society entertains me no end but i guess it'd be particularly rum and stuffy if you were teetotal and only into Dire Straits or Wham! - Di's childhood was indeed deprived; if only there had been Bill Collins' Golden Years of Hollywood in Blighty she and Margo would have fit like hand and glove; or annoying all the fam by usurping their limelight and being adored by press and plebs globally.

I’ve also learnt that Pris Cholls likes to be called Arthur (his second middle name) at the height of sessuale satisfaction. However what I found curious about this was how the request would be conveyed to the lover, via equerry or the Prince?

When I told one of my friends (I have several, no truly, ohwuh I do so, get) that i was reading the book, she confessed to having a soft spot for Lady Di for alleged friend was in London at the time of engagement and the same age as the Liedee. Well not any more sweetheart, you’re older than she’ll ever be, as am I. In fact said friend was born the day before Lady Di. And the spooky similarities well they just never began from there.

I mean to say, how many people do you know enter potato sack races willy nilly, well apart from the family Brady.