MY ROYAL ENGLAND

I was just running 'bout as fast as I could once I 'arrived' in England, as it had come to mind during my journey over that never could I wear anything of Lady Diana's as all her gowns in reflection seemed so frumpy and 80s which never would do for someone as splendid as me. So I dialed up my favortie British dressmakers and had them meet me at the castle. Oh, darling, I just cannot tell you the fun that was had. Dresses and dresses thrown round the room with us all falling to the bed in mounds and mounds of tafetta and silk layered in laughter.

Anyhow, I chose from Stella a marvelous creation hot from her pressing rooms. Low cut, but not too, as I didn't want to bow before the Queen and subject her to my bosom of lust. The dress is so terribly me, and Stella said I should call it my own. How dear of her, truly, to care for me so. Well, anyway darling, it's so classic and sleek, sleeveless and fitting like a glove in a light shade of royal blue. I chose no hat, as I wanted all to see my radiant smile when the moment came that I be titled.

Lizbeth herself dialed my room letting me know she was awaiting my arrival in the ballroom below. I know, darling, I really shouldn't call her by Lizbeth, but we're such intimate friends that I call her this pet name, and in return she's allowed to call me Jackie; and commoners you know aren't to call her anything at all, let alone Queen, that is unless they are in crowd and saying, "God save the Queen."

So in keeping with protocol and for the sake of my title, lets us refer to her as
QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Well, she made a stoic speech about ALL that I've contributed to the commonwealth and therefore shall now and forever hold the title: Lady Jacqueline. Of course it was a crowning moment in my life, but I rather doubt I'll use the title unless I've got to throw it round to get
MY WAY.

We're spending the evening in her private suites, as Phillip is at Broadmor hunting fox this week. I only can hope that my dinner's not bland as you know the royals and their bad taste when it comes to a fine meal. Hopefully there'll be loads of jam to spread over everything dry, as truly darling, whenever I'm visiting her house it's the only way I can muster through. Odd, isn't it, how the British loathe flavor to their food? So it's no wonder their fascination with crumpets- dead bread. Perhaps its they feel guilty having so much while the commoners go without, and it's their darling way of attempting to reach out to the PEOPLE that they are one and the same, but not really.

I'll be in a hurry to amuse her with my latest travels as I'm meeting Lady Brett, Lady Olivia and Lady Anne to run from the castle and have a car drive us to club 3020 where we can get rip roaring smashed and laugh over our new titles. You didn't think I was the only one, did you, darling? Oh, heavens no. There are so many of us contributing to the commonwealth with our good deeds of greeting PEOPLE with good cheer. Truly darling, there's nothing more to it than that. Allowing yourself to be entertained in all the right places and being damn jolly about the whole nonsense of it all. Well, that and keeping thin.

And certainly, there's no volunteer work to it, as our Queen would never expect Ladies to work
FOR FREE.

-Jacqueline