As you can see, my maid, Belladonna Bitchhole, has gone completely mad this New Year's Eve. She stands on the grand staircase, dressed as a blancmange. Yes, that's right, dear Reader, it's not a typo or a drunken rant on my part. She was literally wearing a wobbling dress made from extra-strength pink blancmange, itself a sort of trifle or after-dinner pudding appreciated in French circles. She'd also dyed her hair green. I love the way her pudgy little arms poke out the sides, like ham bones.
Really, that varmint would try the patience of an oyster. I must get rid of her.