Diana

Eeee readers. I was watching the telly on Friday. It were a service for Diana. The Princess of Hearts. Or was it whales? I can't remember. It were depressing, I don't mind telling you that. Put me in mind of a funeral and all death. You'd think they'd be a merry bunch the royals, what with them palaces and cars and the nice food, but no, miserable lot they looked. And not a landmine in sight, and she works for the landmines! A cheek. She wasn't even there, I expect she was kissing Aids men. Or curing the lepers. One day she fed 5000 people with five fishes and two loaves of bread. Or were it two fishes and five loaves. Or was it five people with 5000 loaves of bread. It were one of them anyway. And Ciabattas too, none of your own brand stuff. Mind you, the fish was only from a tin, so its not that impressive.

So, after Diana kissed the Aids men (and I'm talking proper aids, not this blood transfusion stuff, which is just an excuse to call in sick if you ask me), my Cecil tells me shes gone to Heaven. Yes. The gay club. Well I'll not call it a gay club, I'll call it what it is. The pit of Satan. Sodom and Gomorrah on the Embankment. Gay would indicate happiness, and I'm buggered if Heaven brings you happiness. How could it? I'll ask Ada's Shane, she says he's a h-o-m-o- er, x - x- a - l- l. Now he says he's not, but he would, he wants to hide it. Mind you, he's very good to her, he is. He makes her tea and brings her her library books. How many grandsons would do that? What a waste. He's got himself a girlfriend too. Well, Ada thinks its a cover story, and I do too. You should see him. I've never met him meself, but Ada knows what she's talking about, on account of her Josephs fondness for the spit roast. And I'm not going to shock you, but it doesn't involve food. Well, not in the conventional sense. Just skewers. Fleshy skewers. Self basting fleshy skewers. So that's that. No great grandchildren for Ada. I won that. My Dezza, he's eleven, his youngest is one year old. He doesn't have a name for it yet, but it makes me a great grandmother. I won that one, Ada, you dried up old bitch!
Oh you should hear us. It's just our way of joking. But she is a bitch.

So Diana. She's lovely she is. Everyday in the paper I read about her good deeds for the needy. Maybe she'll come visit me. We can talk about my Cecil losing his legs in the war. The last time I saw him were on Platform 14 at Waterloo Station. I remember that day like it were last week. Mainly because it were last week but at my age you get confused. He went to Vauxhall for some reason, and I havn't seen him since. Apart from this morning to give him a cup of tea. And last night when we were listening to the Archers. If you're reading this Cecil, come home. And get a pint of milk on the way. You know the type I mean.

So anyway, Madeleine McCann...