Breast of Both Worlds (working title)

March 19, 2009

In order to make ends meet I have recently been forced to work as a ghost-writer for the Page 3 glamour girl Keeley Quinlan’s upcoming “autobiography”, Breast of Both Worlds (working title). Here are a couple of excerpts from it so far…

Chapter Seven: Get Up and Go

The days following my marriage to Danny were like some sort of drug. He was heroin and I was the junkie and our priest Fr. Quinn was a drug dealer (check for citation). When he said ‘you may now kiss the bride’, Danny’s lips were like a giant slobbery needle injecting his highly addictive saliva right into my veins and I was on a massive high when I was with him. When he was away though it was like I was coming down and I couldn’t cope. It was his prolonged absence while filming Detective Sergeant Kangaroo in Melbourne in 2007 that subsequently led to my debilitating actual heroin addiction, which in hindsight turned out to be absolutely nothing like marriage.

Chapter Ten: All Hands on Deck

The days following my divorce from Danny were like some sort of horrible heroin addiction or something. Following our split I embarked on a string of meaningless and ultimately unfulfilling – charity events. I was the face of everything from Alzheimer’s to Zinc Deficiency. My Agent Jonathon thought that it would change public perception of me. But after a four days of charity press events I sent my authorised look-a-like Vivienne to finish off my remaining commitments and headed off to Minorca for a much earned break. It was here, having been pictured slapping the villa’s elderly housekeeper, that I was forced to sleep with several local Paps in return for the negatives. The housekeeper in question refused a similar settlement in return for her silence so we had to buy her a jet-ski instead. You may think that this was a little extreme, but did you read about it? No, I didn’t think so, and you never will.

Chapter Fifteen: P’s and Q’s

The days following my marriage to Rio were like some sort of wonderful fatal car crash. And a few days later, the days following his funeral were like some sort of terrible charity event. I shut myself away from the world and grieved, only going out on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. It was hard to believe that this man who had been a part of my life for over a month was now gone. Needless to say I was inconsolable, but I knew that he would want me to go on and that I should use his money to fund something in his honour, something dedicated to him that would stand the test of time, my pop career. The ironic thing was that we were only days away from our scheduled appearance on Celebrity Wife Swap. I told the production company that I would still honour the booking, but they told me that Tess Daly sitting alone in my house for a week would not make for good television. That’s their prerogative I guess.

…Not Also, But Only


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