Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

Farewell Speech

Dearest minions. It is with great sorrow that I tell you that you’re now going to have to amuse yourself.

Clad in white wafty linen, a large yet tasteful straw hat clamped to my head against the propeller’s flurry, and the most fabulous pair of Jackie O sunglasses, I shall be boarding a plane tomorrow out of this lacklustre country for a glittering month-long holiday. Oh, I wish I could take you all with me, but my plane is so fabulous it doesn’t even have Economy for the likes of you.

I’m sure you’ll play nice. Looking after the whole Known Universe will be former Royal Correspondent Jenny Bond, who’s a bit of an ice maiden, truth be known. So beware all you sinners, for she may smite you from on high with a pithy email about leaving cups in the sink. She’s that serious.

With a clutch of fabulous luggage, I’m heading to LA, then Oz, then back via Singapore. All well and good, until you consider that I’m apparently going The Wrong Way Around The World (an ambition I have wanted to achieve since discovering the joys of boys at school). Doing this thus makes me a day older than the rest of you lot. Which, incidentally, means that my birthday is now on the 23rd of August, not the 24th, and that all of a sudden I’m now a Leo who can’t stick onions, I believe.

Indeed, my friends – a constant source of paranoia at the best of times – have been excelling themselves with this announcement of departure. Wind of my world travel has gotten around to the most removed of them, and they’re all booking up to see me for - quote - ‘One last time’. I’m hoping that it’s an unfortunate slip of the tongue, rather than a rather uncanny prediction playing on my fear of flying. What do they know that I don’t? Will there going to be an army of them tampering with the wings at 40,000 feet? Am I finally going to be able to do my best Shatner impression as My Evil Best Friend Declan and Gertie start unscrewing the fuel tanks as I stare helplessly through the glass? “There’s-Homo’s-On-The-Wing! THERE’S-HOMO’S-ON-THE-WING!”

Indeed, Declan gave me a hug goodbye when I saw him this weekend that had a desperate feeling of finality about it, cemented by him whispering “Can I have your porn?” mid-clinch.

Honestly.

But lo! Hark! From the darkened bar from which I dictate this missive, I can hear the starter engines revving up! It’s time I depart for places warmer and a darn sight more fabulous. I’ll see you all soon.

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