Hessian Heaven

Saturday night, I feel the air is getting lukewarm... Something about babies... It's party time and not one minute we can lose... More Babies... Da ba da dah, dee dee dee da nee na na na, etc.

Hurry. The coolest soirée in town is already under way. A short dash across the Lambrini-wielding child's lair, wearing surprisingly ordinary clothes, and it's time for a balloon-melting, paper-ripping frenzy of fun.

The Queen of the window seat is firmly in place, regally surveying her boozed-up serflings while dogs fart at her feet. Controversial glitter is released to devastating effect, covering everything that moves with itchy colour. Peasants with unwanted gifts are duly flogged and dragged, heelwise & screaming as the all powerful monarch dismisses them with an 'orf with their heads' flourish. Those with whom she is most pleased escort the fair lady into the milky cold, carrying her excessive train and mammoth ruff behind her, to indulge in a puff of the New World.

As the clock strikes the hour of bewitchment the royal court moves south a few paces to Her Majesty's ballroom for a spot of stately dancing. Court Jesters, 'The Fizz' make a lengthy appearance, entertaining the masses with their pumping, comedy stylings; until, with Sir Tacky Tape of Wacky Tack beckoning, no more grapes for her loyal & exhausted subjects to dangle, and the thought of scrapbooking The Aston ringing in her mind, The Queen pony prances to bed to enjoy a fitful, glittery sleep.


Currently listening: Fur and Gold by Bat For Lashes