It all started with my Pearl Necklace: a 16th century, Parisian heirloom, with pearls plucked from oyster shells at La Rochelle, sconced in 68-carat gold and set in lapis lazuli, once worn by Madam Bovary and Russell Harty, and bearing the almost invisible inscription "Made in Taiwan". The Tragedy of the Pearls - as it would later be known - manifested itself during a heavy S&M session with Juan (him dressed as a Spanish conquistador; me dressed as poor white trash; he ruthlessly hung me from the banquet-room chandelier by my Pearl Necklace and systematically abused me with his pet anaconda), but once the reverie of the act had died (and the swelling had gone down) I found my precious little antique necklace snapped into forty different pieces, lying on my boudoir floor, as much cop as a nun in a whorehouse. Anyone for a game of marbles?
With an impending high-society soirée at some gaff called The Ritz, what was I do to? It would be social shame of the highest order to be seen out-of-doors without my famous pearls.
Here's my solution:
Send the maid to 99p Store and get the bitch to buy some white polished stones for your fish-tank, get her to polish them to a high shine, and then Super-glue them all together on a piece of shoelace sprayed with silver glitter. Voila! You now have a pearl necklace. Can't find any white polished stones from 99p Store? Use White Chocolate Maltesers instead! They don't last as long, but still look good.
Basil the maid enjoyed her visit to 99p Stores, Hemel Hempstead branch. She enjoyed the sights of the 1960s high street, so typical of the New Towns: alcoholics, violent beggars, Nigerians selling scam lottery tickets and psychopathic elderly citizens with umbrellas used as weapons. Basil the maid tells me she was followed down an alley-way and offered a "five-fingered shuffle" from a 19-year old chav wearing a filthy tracksuit and drinking Stella straight from the can.
White Maltesers, wear them round your neck. And if you get peckish,
even after the main course,
you can eat your own necklace.
And so, with pearls a-jiggling around my neck, I was chauffeured off into the night.... bound for The Ritz.
Darling Fanny,
ReplyDeleteWe can picture the scene.........
The snake charmed from its basket.......the chandelier lit and swinging........Juan cavorting in his red velvet cape........the pearls glistening and gleaming ............cries of ecstasy.......
But......
Darling Fanny........
Try as we might........
We cannot......
Indeed, will not.......
Imagine you.......you of all people.....
Dressed as 'poor white trash'!!!
That is too awful.
We love the idea of an edible necklace.....perhaps Waitrose has Swiss white chocolate for the purpose?!
Darling Jane and Lance,
DeleteSo sweet! Such kind words.... so noble and wonderful of you to defend my honour. Honestly, I love dressing as poor, white trash... in my cowgirl outfit and be 'humble ole little me'.
Yes, let's lobby Waitrose to start selling white chocolate edible pearl necklaces! xx
It so refreshing dear Francis that I'm not the only one to enjoy the standards of pearls. I have received lovely pearl necklace gifts from all my houseboys, which is now upwards of about 25 of them. Every week I seem to receive more, bedecking my neck and chest. They alway create such art I tell ya.
ReplyDeleteMistress Maddie, you are a naughty girl and if Fanny saw you she would put your over her knee and give your bottom a good spanking. And I know you would enjoy it. As would your 25 plus household of fired-up men. I love the sort of pearl necklace you're talking about. Liquid pearls? Naughty... naughty.... xx
DeleteMy mother had a light fingered 'daily' called Pearl McGusset. Pearls for tears as they say. Have you tried Pearl Grey tea? it's delicious once you get the taste for it. Sadly, I've never been blessed with a pearl necklace, just the odd brooch off a well wisher.
ReplyDeletePearl McGusset sounds wonderful. Would make an ideal replacement for my stinker of a maid.
DeleteOh Pearl Grey Tea... j'adore! I'm just sampling Marijuana Tea at the moment, not Twinings, you understand, but my own home-brewed and home-grown. It's wonderful. I get so stoned I drink it straight from the tea-pot spout and do an exotic dance in my bellydancers' outfit. A whirling dervish, if ever there was one. I like your new avatar, Mitzi. It looks like Barbara Cartland. I have in my library one of her lesser-known, earlier works, entitled "Rose Hip Lesbians". It is signed by Cartland too and has a locker of her hair (a wonderful keepsake which I might sell on E-bay sooner rather than later). xx