I missed a great deal of the weekend due to my beloved bestfriend, the bottle. All I was able to get from the Sundays papers was something about businessmen offering up £250,000, Indecent Proposal style, for a night with David Cameron. In a way this is good news - it means some of the ladies I know are no longer the biggest sluts in the Tory party.
Of course I'm sure that's not what the story was...
In other news I spent most of last week running around London, sweating profusely due to the suddenly hot weather, and looking like an overworked goddess. Why do I do this, why do I run around with a huge handbag and high heels? Why do I go to the effort to wear fitted pencil skirts and tailored shirts only to end up looking like a wrinkled bag lady by the end of it? And finally why do I spend a lifetime doing my hair only to drag it back into a knot with pens and lighters stuck through it?
Because I'm a sucker for attention and praise. Because nothing makes me grin more than getting a smiley face text from a frontbencher. And because I am, in my own way, a big old slut as well. My dear granny would be proud.
My new Total Politics article is online here
Toodles, darlings! x
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