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.
