Look what the postman brought me.
It is signed and it is pretty. There was nothing else in the envelope. No special note for Fag. There wasn’t a letter suggesting a secret meeting. Nothing at all.
I was most upset. I cried myself to sleep last night. Indeed there were tears on my pillow.
I’ll take that as a no then.
John Barrowman does not want to fall in love with or see a photograph of my Fag. He is missing a treat, because Fag is very very pretty.
Although John is most lovely and delicious, I feel that I can not cope with any more rejection from him. He must realise that in rejecting my Fag, he is also rejecting me. This is most upsetting.
But I will not dwell. Bitterness is bad for the skin.
Where shall I try next?
Hag x
Well . . . Daniel Craig has said he thinks Bond should shag a man, for super-spy realism and alla that . . .
Rupert Everett? I have an art book somewhere that has a nude of him in it . . . oh happy day, when I found that!
(I’m tremendously amused, btw, that you actually wrote John Barrowman. I was perfectly willing to accept that it was a story . . . I mean, it sounded good, and that’s what’s REALLY important.)
Oh yes Shira – I am a woman of my word! I did indeed write and he did indeed ignore the letter.
Fag has suggested Davina next. Not quite a celebrity boyfriend, but she has contacts that may be useful.
Rupert Everett can go on *the list*, as can Daniel Craig.
Hag x
Well . . . contacts are good. I found out just yesterday that a couple friends from the island of Lesbos might be able to find me my long desired gay boyfriend. This is a great kindness on their part.
Especially after suffering intense fag envy the other night when at a Mexican restaurant that had quite a number of established pairs taunting me by sitting where I could see them.
And there’s ALWAYS a list, isn’t there?