Apparently, today is her LUCKY day. WE didn't think so.
As GREMLINS we rejoice in supposed LUCKY days. CROOK and REJECT have spent the morning rubbing their hands together in glee. TREACLE tried to do the same but her fingers stuck together with the super glue that was supposed to stick HER MAJESTY'S bum to the chair.
You see, Her Ladyship bought a new dress for a CHRISMAS BALL. She's not going to a BALL and the dress doesn't fit but that hasn't stopped HER LADYSHIP hanging it on the back of the door and occasionally dancing with it.
WE THINK SHE'S MAD.
WE THINK SHE'S MADDER THAN US.
Wheeze has started singing I WILL SURVIVE every time he passes a SKELETON. We never realised he was so DEFIANT and BRAVE and possibly FOOLHARDY.
We don't think it's HER MAJESTY'S lucky day. At last we are about to DEFEAT her. I opened the window last night and then wrapped myself in CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. Hungry moths came in their hundreds, desperate for the taste of lace and satin. The dress is in shreds and the MOTHS are sleeping off their feast beneath the desk. REJECT thinks they're GROSS.
HERE SHE COMES.
SHE sees that the dress is in TATTERS. She pulls it off the hanger. She tries it on and declares it's her LUCKY DAY because the DRESS FITS.
I hate her. I do believe I HATE HER.
FA LA FECKITY!