Hello people, just popped in briefly to tell you all about my Christmas, as I know you will be agog!
Well, Mr P excelled himself! You know that thing where you can have a star named after you?I
Not enough for Mr P! He actually underwent astronaut training, and took me to see it! 
Of course, with a journey that long, we needed refreshments, so he hired a butler, some chap called Burrell, who apparently used to work for the late Diana, Princess of Wales. (A tad too familiar for my liking, but hey ho)
I was just thinking that things couldn't get much better, when he took me to an exclusive perfumier.
He had commissioned a new scent, made especially for me! It doesn't as yet have a name, but it has base notes of a load of old flannel, with a strong hint of merde du taurot (sp?).
If course, while we were gadding about, I did have concerns about the Christmas preparations, but I needn't have worried!
Mr P had it all in hand, the cleaning was taken care of by those 2 ladies who used to do "How Clean is Your House", the decorations were handled by Kirstie Allsop (I'll never get the pine cones and glitter out from the soft furnishings) which left the catering.
Well, David Attenborough had tipped us the wink about the last breeding pair of Dodos, so that was the main course sorted, and we knew we could rely on Delia (no need for surnames, is there 
) ) to sort the deserts!
I expect that you were wondering about Septimus and Jocasta! But wonder no more, Mr P had engaged that Supernanny woman to keep an eye on them, but really there was no need as they were both still totally focussed on their Brexit solutions, Theresa is relying on them both to help her out.
Oh well, must dash, the evening entertainment chez nous is about to start, just hoping that Peter Kay has some appropriate material, and Julian Clary and Alan Carr don't have one of their spats!
As dear Jennifer (Aldridge) would say,
Byeee!
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