My, my. "Hell hath no fury like..." It appears that things are going to be lively around here for quite some time, especially after Angelique arrives with her red cap and cockade, and a tumbril in tow! :-) I hope Winston has taken suitable precautions.

Tweed, be assured, I am well aware of the situation. I would have to be blind, deaf, and comatose not to know about it at this point. Twillingsgate is in a ferment!

I must say that I am delighted that the detestable Mr Buggeroll has finally gotten himself into serious trouble, but it is most unfortunate that he had to involve the Hoarsbottoms. It has sent shockwaves through this town, I can tell you.

I have been frustrated for months by the naive hero worship conferred on the wretch, Malcom Buggeroll by many of the foolish women of this town. The man is a fiend, a satyr, a slavering beast without conscience, and a complete phony to boot. His so-called poetry could be best used to torture condemned prisoners, I should think, and I hope they paste copies of it all over the walls of his future cell in order to remind him of what a pretentious oaf he really is.

I can't help but wonder why Winston was traipsing around at 2 in the morning with a camera (To photograph "the moon"? Ha!), and I suspect it was more than coincidence that he happened to be in the right place at the right time, as it were, but I can't help but be pleased with the result (at least as regards Mr Buggeroll). Winston is a rogue and a playboy himself, but at least he confines his attentions to eligible human females of legal age and has a degree of judgement about his conduct. It appears that Buggeroll will launch a suit against Winston, as will the Hoarsbottoms. This promises to be nasty. The Hoarsbottoms are extremely wealthy, as are the Wellington-Joneses, and both families are now seemingly intent on ruining the other.

The people at the Twillingsgate Herald (particularly Miss Pruella Tattle, their resident neighborhood snitch) must be in sheer ecstasy! This is the event they have waited all their tawdry lives for.

The rumoured photos, by the way, have been denied publication by court order, and must be held for the trial. There are people in this town who would pay dearly to see them, but I am not one of them. I do not intend to ruin my appetite in that fashion.

Winston offered to show them to me for free (he has made several copies), but I declined. He said, "Too bad. I will shortly be selling these quietly to interested parties for...I should think...at least 80 quid apiece."

Winston is a cheeky and unscrupulous rascal, and that is for sure.

By the way, I intend to rescue Millie, the sheep, forthwith and see that the poor, abused creature finds a proper home and is allowed to live out the rest of her natural life on a quiet meadow somewhere without being harassed and assaulted by a perverted Scottish poet with an exaggerated sense of his own value and desirability. Enough is enough! The Twillingsgate Animal Rights Association, of which I am chairwoman, will take action against Mr Buggeroll and demand that the sheep be released into protective custody at once.

Let Angelique have the scoundrel, I say, if she wants him, and spare the sheep.

* PR