Such a dilemma !!

It must be a terrible burden to be famous for being homeless. After all, once you are no longer homeless, you have no claim to fame. And then you have to maintain interest in your blog (and I use the term "interest" very loosely) by increasing the dribble quotient of your posts. Take the latest post by Anya (dated 26th August). Fans eager for news after a whole month of silence will be relieved to hear that she wasn't involved in some horrific building collapse involving a jutting out kitchen but just went to Ireland to "escape the hideous heat". Most of us just opened a window but I guess that the big wedge of spondoolicks she got from Harper Collins was burning a hole in her pocket so off she trotted to another country. Sounds like she's gotten over the whole homeless thing pretty quickly, eh chums ! But without the daily struggle for existence (which had quite literally tens of people all over the world hanging on her every word) to talk about in her blog, how best to drive up interest in her forthcoming book? Perhaps introducing some characters from the forthcoming book as a taster. Waahaay !! Inspiration strikes and off she (allegedly) pops to see some bloke who couldn't give a rats arse about his daughters welfare over the last year. Cue lots of catching "glimpses of each other in the driver’s mirror" (Trés Dramatique!) as her drove her all over Ireland (if the post is to be believed). But why would you catch a glimpse in the drivers' mirror (we call it a rear view mirror in this country, love)? Surely this only happens when someone is driving and someone is in the back seat. Ahhhh... Lady Muck must have been too proud to sit in the front with "the driver" and therefore must have chose to be chauffeured around, waving regally as the local inhabitants of those quaint Irish villages doffed their cap as she glided gracefully through. Cue much waffly lyrical waxing as she gets back into her stride with the overly flowery dogs dinner that she thinks marks her writing as that of a true author.

• Daddy quoting poetry under apple trees.
• Sharing a snack with Daddy at the seaside.
• Clattering around narrow bumpy roads in a horse and trap with Daddy.

Luckily some self defence anti-boredom mechanism kicked in at that point and I could read no more of this piss poor Mills & Boon garbage, choosing instead, to slip into a welcoming coma as the lesser of two evils. Could some kind soul read the rest of the post and let me know how it turns out. I do hope it involves a ferry sinking.