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| Letters From London |
| Humorous Views on London Culture, Royals, Gossip and Politics |
I'm Hooommmmme - 3 July 2007
“While I’ve been on holiday in Seville, searching for fresh fruit and veg in 35 degree heat, in vain I
might add, you’ve had Gordon jamming his foot in the door of Number 10 giving the royal wave –
“I’m in, I’m finally in!”, the Princes’ joining in the commoners’ wave during their ten hour concert, a
potential wave of bombings by those you have taken the Hippocratic Oath...my goodness.”
“Ah yes. The new and improved I-am-not-Tony-Blair Prime Minister Gordon Brown. And
after 10 years in office he’s now the soft-spoken, avuncular, authoritative - trust me, I am
the way, I am the light, leading you to the path of righteousness Gordon.”
“You’re sounding rather biblical.”
“We can only assume that it’s the next US fad; thank you, Paris for your favourite
passage… all of them.”
“And speaking of biblical, the Bishop of Carlisle is blaming global warming and the massive
floods in the midlands on the government backing gay rights.”
“Ah the church. Always quick to catch a trend… paedophilia ...Oh God. Look at those
black clouds overhead.”
“Don’t you think Gordon is trying to show Dave up as a silly toff?”
“Well, he is, isn’t he. They say Dave won’t be Tory leader by next year. His ‘Look at me. I
am your new Blair’ has been a bit of a failure, hasn’t it. He’s only just added the first
Muslim woman to his Shadow Cabinet.”
“How obvious…no shadows there.”
“Well Darling, Kate “he’s lucky to have me” Middleton was hardly an apparition at the
concert for Diana displaying a new brighter, wider smug smile like the cat that ate the
rat.”
“Or the rat that ate the cat.”
“Oh, totally. Obviously plan C has worked quite well. Can’t you just imagine the
conversations at the manor house: ‘Now listen here, Queen-to-be-Katherine. Stand your
ground. Don’t let him have a moment when he doesn’t see you laughing, giggling,
sharing those intimacies with his friends, no matter how they laugh at you…or me. Are
you listening or playing with your hair?’ ‘Oh Mummy. I have been listening. I have been
bored silly hanging out at Boujis with the dim and dimmer. I want results’ ‘And don’t
forget. Your sister needs a prince too."
“Divas, divas, divas. I read that Sir Elton threw yet another of his don’t-you-know-who-I-am-
rages when royal security required him to get out of his car to walk fifty yards. It was a charity
event after all. Shouldn’t someone have informed him?”
“But that’s an old diva, darling. Kate is just beginning her stratagem. Give her time.
Camilla took to it overnight.”
“Clever girl. Or perhaps simply following her plan.”
“Indeed. Chinless P Diddy, Sean John, the little puff, whatever, sang the song he wrote
for Notorious B I G… gunned down by rival rappers, Diana killed in a car crash. Bit of a
stretch wouldn’t you say?”
“I heard they had to add the rappers from the US because NBC was broadcasting the event.”
“Tut. Tut. Is nothing sacred? I could have done with the Kaiser Chiefs, really.”
“Can you just imagine going under the knife with that bombing neurosurgeon? I wonder what his
success rate is.”
“Was. Six of the eight potential bombers were doctors and the other two worked for the
NHS. No wonder it’s in trouble. Quel mess.”
“I’m going private.”
“I’m going to the sales… before they close off Oxford Street.”
“While I’ve been on holiday in Seville, searching for fresh fruit and veg in 35 degree heat, in vain I
might add, you’ve had Gordon jamming his foot in the door of Number 10 giving the royal wave –
“I’m in, I’m finally in!”, the Princes’ joining in the commoners’ wave during their ten hour concert, a
potential wave of bombings by those you have taken the Hippocratic Oath...my goodness.”
“Ah yes. The new and improved I-am-not-Tony-Blair Prime Minister Gordon Brown. And
after 10 years in office he’s now the soft-spoken, avuncular, authoritative - trust me, I am
the way, I am the light, leading you to the path of righteousness Gordon.”
“You’re sounding rather biblical.”
“We can only assume that it’s the next US fad; thank you, Paris for your favourite
passage… all of them.”
“And speaking of biblical, the Bishop of Carlisle is blaming global warming and the massive
floods in the midlands on the government backing gay rights.”
“Ah the church. Always quick to catch a trend… paedophilia ...Oh God. Look at those
black clouds overhead.”
“Don’t you think Gordon is trying to show Dave up as a silly toff?”
“Well, he is, isn’t he. They say Dave won’t be Tory leader by next year. His ‘Look at me. I
am your new Blair’ has been a bit of a failure, hasn’t it. He’s only just added the first
Muslim woman to his Shadow Cabinet.”
“How obvious…no shadows there.”
“Well Darling, Kate “he’s lucky to have me” Middleton was hardly an apparition at the
concert for Diana displaying a new brighter, wider smug smile like the cat that ate the
rat.”
“Or the rat that ate the cat.”
“Oh, totally. Obviously plan C has worked quite well. Can’t you just imagine the
conversations at the manor house: ‘Now listen here, Queen-to-be-Katherine. Stand your
ground. Don’t let him have a moment when he doesn’t see you laughing, giggling,
sharing those intimacies with his friends, no matter how they laugh at you…or me. Are
you listening or playing with your hair?’ ‘Oh Mummy. I have been listening. I have been
bored silly hanging out at Boujis with the dim and dimmer. I want results’ ‘And don’t
forget. Your sister needs a prince too."
“Divas, divas, divas. I read that Sir Elton threw yet another of his don’t-you-know-who-I-am-
rages when royal security required him to get out of his car to walk fifty yards. It was a charity
event after all. Shouldn’t someone have informed him?”
“But that’s an old diva, darling. Kate is just beginning her stratagem. Give her time.
Camilla took to it overnight.”
“Clever girl. Or perhaps simply following her plan.”
“Indeed. Chinless P Diddy, Sean John, the little puff, whatever, sang the song he wrote
for Notorious B I G… gunned down by rival rappers, Diana killed in a car crash. Bit of a
stretch wouldn’t you say?”
“I heard they had to add the rappers from the US because NBC was broadcasting the event.”
“Tut. Tut. Is nothing sacred? I could have done with the Kaiser Chiefs, really.”
“Can you just imagine going under the knife with that bombing neurosurgeon? I wonder what his
success rate is.”
“Was. Six of the eight potential bombers were doctors and the other two worked for the
NHS. No wonder it’s in trouble. Quel mess.”
“I’m going private.”
“I’m going to the sales… before they close off Oxford Street.”
