er .... this is Fred, my sort of other pash
This is my new "pash", Alfred. He is so romantic, and a whizz with absolutely everything....
Well, almost everything. Bit reticent in the bedroom and all that. So......
er .... this is Fred, my sort of other pash
who is not unforthcoming by any means....
As I lie there, crushed in his short arms, I try to ignore his dodgy dress sense and not think about that spooky crowd he mixes with:
Nor to yearn for Alfred to be in Fred's place......
Oh, what to do.... what to do....sigh
What should poor Lav do? Should she ditch that soppy Alfred and become a sex machine with Fred? Or should she give Fred the big E...... ? Answers on a postcard please. Meanwhile, watch this space for the next blog entry...
So, it turns out that Basil de Farmer was not my father after all. It was some boring guy from down the street (who's currently sleeping with Daddy). Bugger!!
And to top it all, I now have a brat of a half-brother, who will get half of everything!!
Basil (the bastard) still comes sniffing round though. Certainly since Mama's vampy cousin, Davina has come to stay.
I could run away. Bella says there's plenty of work at Tesco's car park, cleaning cars and so on. She said I could sleep in a hut with all her cousins and everything! Sounds super!
No, I know! I'll run away to Mary's attic! No-one ever comes up here. And she's got a super new TV set. Now sssh...The Call Centre's on!
For further whinging and moaning, go to Paul's Passions on this website!!!
Since Papa has made it Big in showbusiness, there are many famous faces at our house. Parties every night, that sort of thing.
And being Plastic Paul's daughter, one does get "hit on" a lot. However there is a ring of pain around my heart. And their sweet nothings fall on stony ground.
And anyway, it was Basil (the bastard) I was making a Bee-line for.
For once, he dropped his arrogance and became tongue-tied, as he tried to tell me the truth about my parentage. Basically that I belonged to him.
"Ya, Ya! Dad. I'll go and pack."
You see, Basil underestimated living with a dipsomaniac. And that I have heard drunken ramblings about my "real" father since I was four or five.
I've been packed up and ready to go for some years.
Anyway, no-one really noticed us talking. Mary was getting sweet on Wilfred (from the Beano)
Daddy was busy flirting with Batman. Rumours were that they were secretly dating. Papa going Gay again and everything.
So Basil (the bastard) and I met every day outside our house to discuss my new life. He said I would finally feel complete with him and my new stepmother.
In fact, my new Father says why wait? why prolong the agony? Come and live with us now. You could be swimming in our heated pool by Newsnight.
But it's one thing to pack your life into a suitcase, quite another to leave the house and the parents you have known all your life.
Oh, what to do. What to do....
I have built up a new life with my lesbian lover, Mulan. We are One against the world.
I mean, we snog, and go to bed together and everything! But it's not the same as with a chap, really, is it?
And when I suggested we Do It in front of the mirror, Mulan positively did her nut! "We're not into that macho pervert shit!"
(But I am!)
And she's absolutely beastly to Mama and Papa - considering she lives with us, and eats all our food and everything. Mind you, Papa going on about Chairman Mao does not help!!!
I think the last straw really came when Lord Posh suggested a jolly threesome, or a floorshow at the very least. I didn't mean to giggle, but Mulan absolutely stormed out. She could be a bit on the bossy side really.
Anyway, this pal of Poshie's, Madonna, has suggested I live with her. She's sort of old and has this funny kind of look in her eye. But she tells me I'd adore her house in Notting Hill.
What to do? Oh, what to do?!!!!
Just to tell you that series Four of the The Amanda Ann Family Show has started on
Tune in now, if you dare!!!
Oh, what to do?!
I was happy being engaged to my dear Poshie until...
But as I was gazing at the stars after Poshie's nightly visit...
And there was my darling Melvin loitering with intent.....
"Mary?.. Look I can explain...Oh, it's You, Posh Piece!"
"My darling Melvin!", I cried, "You have come back for me!"
"Er.. Yeah", he husked...
"Come to my bedchamber, my love. We will celebrate and fulfill our reunion!"
"Aw, why not?", Melvin shrugged.
Our limbs interlocked in the moonlight
"Yes, my darling, yes!", I cried
"Keep your voice down!", he said urgently.
Two minutes later, Melvin held me close and whispered words of love .... "I'm 'ungry, Posh Piece, Can you lend us 20 quid? Got a fag?" His utterings sent shivers down my spine!
How do I break this news to my parents... and Lord Posh, of my new engagement....?
But surely they'd understand the mysterious ways of true love...... wouldn't they?
I am now engaged to Lord Posh. Not allowed to wed though, until I am 21. Bit of a drag really, but I've got to go to university first. Probably to study poshness and everything.
Hamish and Krista are living with us at the moment.
His TV show bombed,
and he's taken it very badly indeed!
Krista is really hacked off, and she's on the prowl for a producer at the very least! Meanwhile she has to put up with us!
Mummy just smirks. She's in a very good mood at the moment, and doesn't care who lives in the house. She's got a new bed, a French model, the one she's been after for ages! A present from Daddy for leaving her (briefly).
Only Daddy's not allowed on it! Titter!
He has to sleep in the conservatory!
Meanwhile I get their old bed, loads of room for Poshie's nightly visits - he especially likes the mirror! Tee-Hee!!
He's nice, my fiancee, but he's not Melvin. No-one will ever be Melvin - sigh!
Oh please help me! Hamish has sent me away to Christian Camp. He said it would be super fun, with guitars and tamberines and things.
Only it's not! It's all quiet, and you're not allowed to talk or anything. And it's full of nuns who just pray all the time!
Mary shoplifted some mags for me to read. But they've brought me no joy! It's so dire here!
My letters to Hamish come up unopened. What is going on???
So did my one to Lord Posh - my only friend. The one I sent care of my own address!
Luckily, I managed to snaffle the phone while the nuns were playing Kandy Krush!
Lord Posh answered the phone from Mummy's bedroom extension.
"Why, hello young lady!",
he boomed. "Your mother and father can't come to the phone. Your father's just slept with my girlfriend! And your mother's thrown Hamish out! Whoops! I mean - everything's fine, young Lavinia!"
"Poshie! Whatever do you mean?!", I cried
"Er - nothing. Me no speak English. Me Spanish au pair. Au revoir, I mean, ciao, I mean Adieu - no, I don't - oh, ta ta!"
My misery multiplied. Whatever was going on at home? Why did Mama throw my fiancee out? Was he getting too friendly with that horrible Swede? What was Poshie on about? Daddy wouldn't sleep with another woman - would he?
I must leave here. Someone help me escape! Please!
Although I have finally found a chap, I still feel so alone, unloved and frustrated. Especially the latter!
I mean, my latest pash, Hamish is a nice boy. Almost the man of my dreams really. But I do feel he takes me for granted sometimes! And he's really got his feet under the table! Or rather my bed!
But without me in it!
Mrs Slagg advises me to take loads of cold showers! Can't feel any effect, I have to say!
Hamish and I could sneak off to Mama and Papa's bed, while she is passed out, and Papa has rehearsals. But Lord Posh and Mary are always hogging it!
While his snooty new girlfriend sits on our (new) sofa, wondering why he's taking so long to get a drink of water!
AND I don't like the way Hamish looks at her!
Papa doesn't like him being so pally with Mama either!
I feel this romance is doomed! Sob!
And when I do get on Mama's bed, Hamish never comes! He's too busy watching Top Gear! Oh, how I long for a real man - like Jeremy Clarkson or James May or someone.........
Pop's bought us a new pad.
It's in this really dull street with all trees and everything. Deadly quiet. I hate it!
And inside is even worse! If that's possible. I mean look at this dire room. Spooky!!
And as for my lousy attic room...don't even go there. Quite literally. However can I show this pit to anyone? Especially when I want to Do It with a chap......
Of course, no man worth his salt will want to come up these stairs. I shall die an (almost) virgin!
I mean, look at Their love palace. Far nicer than mine! I hate my selfish parents!
Oh! I hate it! I hate it so!!!!!!