It's been a busy month for the Medias. What with running around from Kate's fantabulous launch to the Anya Hindmarch bag bash, we barely had time to stop off at Boots for some cream before catching up with young Lily at the New Look party (bit of a wash-out, only salvaged by her dad's legendary hospitality, so the less said about that the better.)
So what have we all been up to? Well frankly the youngsters have been a bit of a worry. We've scarcely seen young Polly at all since we last wrote. We think she's going into a bit of a Goth phase. She's got a new friend called Marilyn and they've been spending so much time together. We did wonder if she might be becoming a lesbian. Then when we asked her what they do together all day and she said they just chat and swap make-up tips and that put our minds at ease. You know what she's like.
If you think that's bad, you should hear what our dear friend Catherine has been up to. Well you've probably heard already. Been there, seen it, done it. And done it again and again and again. Of course we're a very modern family and don't object. We should really be interested in her stories. But somehow as soon as she starts talking our attention starts to drift. She was telling us one of her stories the other night and I think at one point she mentioned an aubergine. Can't think what that might have been about.
We'd been hoping for better news though from good old William. You can always rely on Wills to raise the tone, and sure enough he threw a party this month. It sounded just marvellous hoot. He invited some adorable friends. Of course it was a high class affair, lots of his writer chums, a few young chaps he met at a party and even a couple of musicians. Grandmama got quite giddy about it. But it turned out that everyone was on such a downer. William started droning on about how men never seem to express their feelings, don't like crying, always insist 'mustn't grumble' right up until the moment they attach the hose to the exhaust. Before we knew where we were, all these handsome young chaps were swapping tales about their divorces and tragedies. As they wept into their Monaco lagers, the sobbing sound was only punctuated by Grannie muttering over her sherry, 'And tell us something we don't know Poirot.'
But it goes from bad to worse. We can't say we didn't see it coming but Liz and Nirpal have finally called it a day. All a bit messy really. We think the final straw was when he realised that he was married to a toxic, self-absorbed fridge who could drive past a motorway pile-up and wonder where the corpse in the fast lane had found those shoes; and she realised that she was married to the single most vile, pathetic, skin-crawling shriveldick ever to plague humanity.
After all that, the trials and travails of poor old Christa just won't go away. We thought she'd sorted this out ten years ago with the boob job. But no, she's having her midlife crisis for the fourth time and is probably going to be spitting goosedown for months because we just called her 'old'. We all know what its like round at the Vogue household. Hard enough to keep the eye of the editor with all those skinny young girls from OWM hanging around in the lobby. She badly needed some advice and professional support for her pathological body dysmorphia this month. So she called Kirsty Young and Lionel Shriver. Must admit we were surprised when Lionel said she doesn't trade on her looks any more. For nine months we thought she was a man. Like that nice Mr Blair. No, the other one.
We'll write again very soon with lots more goss about Christa and some miscellaneous love. But we're now off to consider sponsoring one of those black people we've been reading about. We hear Madonna did it. Now of course we have lots of black friends already. There's Ethan, a frightfully nice chap who comes round in 15 minutes when we ring, but he never stops to chat. We have lots of disabled friends too, and some of our chums are really quite poor. You might wonder why we never talk about them, but you know what it's like - someone will always say something to bring down the tone. And wheelchairs and disfigurements can cause such a palaver, it's just shocking really. The government should do something.
Ciao, beautiful friends.
OWMMS: Note to readers. We counted 15 people interviewed in this month's OWM. Nine were journalists. One was in fashion retail. One was an actor. Three were musicians. One was a celebrity chef. We'll be back soon to ask the question: 'Who is Observer Woman?'