Davina: I've had another letter from my boyfriend Vince. All he ever thinks of is pleasure. He stowed away in the lifeboat of a cross-channel ferry last week, now he's down in Cannes trying to sell the film rights to his authorised autobiography. Last time he did this he was away for six and a half months. He came back with a three episode mini series, Elton John's wig and a signed photograph of Liz Hurley squatting in a litter tray. When he gets back this time I'm going to cut him into equal parts and feed him to the rats over a thirteen week period, with an option for a further thirteen parts. Don't talk to me about pleasure! Since Vince buggered off there are very few avenues of pleasure open to me. Even the Prozac on the Kitty Cat doesn't help any more. You know those mobile phones that vibrate? Well, I found one that someone had lost and in desperation I inserted it, long ways, in... You know, my most private place and guess what? It hasn't rung once. Just my luck to find a vibrating phone belonging to someone with no f***ing friends!
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