This wonderful dress - a rare garment, made in the early 1900s entirely from peacock feathers - takes pride of place in my wardrobe, whether it be worn for shopping trips to Primark or Asda in Swindon, or more socially-elevated occasions such as opening a new branch of Liberty's in Chippenham. I have been photographed in it on many occasions. I shall probably wear it when I am chauffeured down to St David's, although I am talking to my stylist.
My stylist is sending me a Hermes scarf, in peacock green, which I am awaiting with bated breasts.
I have since discovered that St David's is in Wales, which is a country whose shape on a geographical map looks like a pig's nose:
Do you see what I mean? If your eye runs down from Anglesey, down the Ceredigion coast to Tenby and onwards to the Gower, the whole shape is unmistakably like a pig's nose. (At least, I'm not expected to visit the pig's arse, which by my approximation of the spatial geography of the British Isles would be Gravesend, with 70% of its populace living below the poverty line, making it a ruthlessly depraved sink-hole town that, by my opinion, should have been bombed in the 1980s).
Consequently, I am alarmed by the prospect of this trip. I have now received a full programme and it appears that an "Elizabethan Lesbian Sung Eucharist" is part of the day.
A "Sung Eucharist" is a more formal service, not limited to any one denomination; essentially, every prayer and every congregational response is sung. But lesbians? Welsh lesbians? Elizabethan Welsh lesbians? Lesbians bearing gifts, such as lesbian jam, with lesbian poetry readings?
Apparently, in certain quarters, a practice known as "labia lashing" is also remarkably popular, although at the current time of writing, I am unsure as to what this actually is. If any reader would care to avail me with the knowledge as to what this is, I would be happy to post a full description of it on here. I suspect it is something to do with philately.
I have been swayed by the promise of luxury accommodation, paid for in full by the organiser, so I shall have to put aside my concerns about Welsh congregational lesbianism, and their filthy Elizabethan practices.
