The Queen of Hearts & Minds.





 It’s May 1st 2023.

A Rimmel-bronzed woman with a shaved head hidden under a Hermes scarf, strides into the British Embassy in Muscat.
She’s in good health and in her early 60s.
She’s come to claim her crown.

Dodi Fayed is dead, and she is the rightful Queen of England.

And she’s tired of ‘Saudi Living’.

Join Diana Frances Spencer on a madcap & zany adventure, as she leaves Lord Lucan’s desert hide-out, and drives across North Africa - encountering TikTok zombies, James Corden, flat-earthers, and an Eritrean Bake-Off like no other - in a car chase against time, hoping to get to the Tower of London and claim those jewels for her rightful heirs.

Shit just got real!
And the Princess of the People is more than a little pissed-off!

Unbelievable!  - The Daily Mail.

Makes you think! - Hello.

Big Tits & Creme Eggs UP HIS ARSE!  - Sunday Sport.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

TALKING TO MY CATS (and feeling old).

Image
I talk to myself. I make out I'm talking to my cats and I suppose in essence, I really am. But they can't hear me. They can, but they don't fully understand. They comprehend a few words, but a lot of the socio-economic terminology or philosophical idioms are largely lost on them. I talk to myself. I have actual  conversations with one of my cats where I get all demonstrative, and spell-out words phonetically so that she might reply. I often find myself laughing at myself thinking how stupid myself has become. The cat smiles at me. (With her eyes). After I've cleaned up the daily litter mess, we often settle down to a Radio 4 play or a wireless documentary on depleting fish stocks. I'm never sure if either of the cats are totally content with my listening, but the odd cuddle and a drawn-out purr often quell the paranoia in my mental backyard. When I turn out the lights, Pig buries herself into my broken and twisted torso. Trousers checks all the locks on the doors, t...
Read more

CRY GOD FOR MUSIC & St.GEORGE!

Image
  We have very few traditions in this house at Winter Solstice. Ever since everything & everyone departed, me and the grumpy Pig go through several motions quite reluctantly. The one tradition that survives is putting George Michael on top of the tree. We don't have a tree this year, so we've put him in the yucca. We were celebrating 'Saint George' way before he chose Baby Jesus' birthday as his departure date! In fact it was before he released his rarely played Christmas classic 'December Song', and even before dickheads started playing 'Whamhalla' or 'Whamageddon' or whatever it's called? Today Pig helped me scatter a few holly leaves around a statuette of Doubting Thomas Didymus. We flea-sprayed her bed, and listened to a few of George's seasonal-ish songs. I like 'Praying For Time' because it's quite cynical about our charity donations at this time of year, and how 'God' is no longer the main focus of the C...
Read more

HOMOGEMINI

Image
  My Chromebook automatically updated itself like a lovelorn teenage onanist. It has furnished me with Gemini , Google's A.I. chatbot for those who chat to bots. It's a treasure trove of ideas for writers, bloggers, and form-filling eejits. It's perfect for people like me. So why do I feel that we're all going down a homogeneous tunnel of analogous similitude, soon to be SO ALIKE, that we're all completely indifferent to difference ? Disappointed to see that the TikTok handle of 'Homogemini' has been taken. No posts yet. Even more disappointed to learn it's a term used by tertiary oil engineers dealing with zwitterionic sulfobetaine surfactants, when processing and purifying soluble proteins in the cosmetics industry. I fear I will never consult a book again.
Read more