Sunday 26th August 2012

Shattered. The Gay Mother, 88, and I didn’t get back from the Big House until 1.30 a.m. Then up again at 7 for Church. The Cousins, or rather their off-spring, have taken to working in branches of Krisy Kreme in the outer London suburbs. The catalogue of customer idiocies was long. Really the entire evening  might have been some production as seen on ITV3.

The Gay Mother’s been looking at inventories. That Worcester tea service on the mantelpiece in the dining room of the Big House does belong to her. As I’ve always thought. But the little table that was bequeathed to the Gay Granny by Ethel and Winnie Johnson doesn’t.

The Gay Mother’s hydrangeas are absolutely outstanding. Utterly rare and uncommon. I’ll graph and show. Come back to view.

Her whole garden a triumph. We’ll have a gardening issue soon. She’s grown a black French bean.

What about Prince Harry? Poor Little Rich Gays here and throughout the world are outraged by the lack of cock. He might have to re-shoot. As it happens, the suggestion of sexual prowess has always been a crucial part of Royalty’s sway, backed up by jewellery. Her Majesty’s frock for the Coronation was as much a sew-in as Marilyn’s to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to President ‘Fucker’ Kennedy.

So this nude Harry is perfect and absolutely in the line of Royal duty.