Hallo, Dear Diary

Oh Dear Diary, what a day it’s been.

What with all the excitement of the Eeepee release, we completely forgot about the Invocal farm, and all of the animals have escaped. Lord only knows when they left – definitely within the last month, as I definitely remember one day in August Rachel trying to squeeze a now very sizeable Captain Skippy back into her pram, and being twatted in the face by several hooves at once.

Oh how we all laughed, dear diary.

Do I mean hooves? or trotters? or paws? I can never remember what you’re supposed to say with sheep. It’s political correctness gone mad.

I asked Mike from Pretty Dead Girls if he had any idea if they may have escaped whilst we were at WITfest in Lampeter (Africa), as we had left the trusty band in charge of the farm as usual, but he told me to stop talking as he had to concentrate on ‘putting out chairs’. I’m a little bit worried about him. He doesn’t seem the same since he came back from South America.

South America is a continent in Africa.

So now Rachel, Sarah and Helen are traipsing the village looking for our livestock. For some reason I wasn’t allowed to help. They were really quite definite about that. I think it might have something to do with the bizarre phenomena that occurs when I am trying to get somewhere, where the whole rest of the universe shifts randomly so that the laws of polar navigation and common sense are no longer applicable – left is up and down is right, forward goes curvy, trees tell me to go the wrong way, North disappears completely and I get lost and it’s Everyone’s Fault But Mine.

I don’t know why there hasn’t been a television programme about the spooky scientific phenomena, hosted by Stephen Hawking or Patrick Moore or Saint Ellen MacCarther or Derek Akorah or a combination thereof.

I really don’t.

So anyway, We’ve had a very lovely summer, playing at lots of lovely places – two highlights were Brighton Pride (again, no lions – very confusing) and WITfest. I’m not sure what it can all mean, dear diary, but husbands really seem to be going out of fashion.

We’ve had lots of exciting feedback about the eepee, and we were even listed in US magazine Curve’s top 100 thespian musicians.

However flattering, I’m not really convinced of the credibilty of the magazine as there seemed to be many typing errors.

Anyway, we’re very much looking forward to going to Africa next month.

Aha – news flash! The livestock has apparently been found on the other side of Northambleton in the fields of that fucking Onvical’s farm, of all places. God I hate that band. They’re just such stupid twats.

Which poses a bit of a problem, as it means we are going to have to wait until about 8.45am tomorrow, dress them all up in school uniforms and pretend to be one of those ‘walking bus’ schemes, in order to bypass the movement ban.

So I’d better get sewing.

Goodbye for now, dear diary,

Princess Rosalita xxxxxxxx