Her Mother dies of various things annually,
she is either an orphan found wandering
the seedy backstreets of London
(Just like Oliver Twist!)
or her parents are of Russian Nobility
and she’s been sent here to live like this
to spy and learn patience and humility.
Has a secret lover from Constantinople
who she simply will not invite to tea
by the name of Bradly Romeo Pitt Beckham.
The car she drives is obviously not her real one
and I myself, with my very own eyes,
saw her trawling the bargain section in Asdas
that weekend she was underwear shopping in Paris.
Her younger Brother’s a kidnapped Viking,
her cross-collie dog’s a new type of pedigree
and they are just waiting on the paperwork.
Her Father (Not the real one!) used to be
a bareknuckle fighter until he contracted
Herpes (She doesn’t quite know what that is?)
and Asthma whilst on safari in Africa.
And My God, but our Saturday afternoons
would drag backwards through several
stages of boredom without her fantastic
flights of fancy and epic imagination around.

Written by Paul Tristram


Available to buy via Lulu


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