A Commoner Christmas

Do you know what I love, darlings? 

Common people. 

I mean, not in actual practice; but the more twee concepts, I adore.  Street festivals!  Carnivals!  Horrifying foodstuffs on a stick!  Terrible music!  Sometimes you absolutely must get down and dirty in order to remind yourself that you are, in fact, several levels removed from these cretins and therefore have every reason to feel better about the fact that Cousin Niles has apparently been shagging AUNTIE GERTRUDE, which frankly explains quite a lot about her excitable reaction last Christmas.

At any rate.

I called Geoffrey, because I knew he'd be willing to accompany me.   He was almost desperately grateful, as his father has somehow picked up on the fact that Geoffrey spends an inordinate amount of time with his "roommate" Bertie, and is threatening yet again to cut him off without a sou.

We went to a "street festival" in a rather seedy little neighborhood.  These always seem wonderfully adorable when you think of them, but the reality is sadly removed.  The streets were full of dirty, lower-class types in brandless denim and cheap M&S jumpers and cardis.  The only solution was to get totally pissed, and quickly.



Drowning my sorrows.

 Afterwards I made Geoffrey spend 80 quid on those ridiculous games in order to win me a teddy.  It just doesn't count if you buy it flat-out.  The teddy was tainted with commoner germs anyway, so as soon as Geoffrey handed it to me I immediately put it in the nearest bin.

All that exertion makes a girl rather hungry, so we went to get the most disgusting thing I could think of, which is of course a massive hamburger, a photo of which I will post below so you think I ate the entire thing and did not ONCE run to the loo to purge, or ANYTHING.  I am just naturally thin and perfect, darlings; try not to hate me for it.



I ate this in its entirety and did not gain an ounce.  So what if the plumbers had to be called?

I am back home now in my posh little flat, pondering life's great mysteries, such as, "Are my boobs inferior to Auntie Gertrude's?" and, "Are there calories in toothpaste?".  Being such an urban adventurer is so terribly taxing on the mind, but such a worthy enterprise.