Once upon a time in a plush pad in Neve-never-land there lived an auntie and two ugly birds called Priscilla and Anastasia. Living with them was an au pair called Cheze. Now it seems that one day the auntie, who looked like the back end of Ella Sphiz, (Ella Sphiz, by the way, was my uncle Joe’s ass and he had the ugliest ass I ever did see}, got a letter from some rich geezer inviting them all to a hoolie on his yacht the following Saturday.

The auntie, who wasn’t as flush as she could be, dug the idea and passed the word on to P and A. The au pair, Cheze, wasn’t even lit up. Now Cheze was of Norwegian extraction and with her blonde eyes and blue hair looked like a Gauguin mistake – but pretty with it. She was kept around the place to keep the fires going and do the general navvying, besides which the gardener liked daisy chains.

When Cheze asked if she could go they shouted at her in unison (that’s an Aboriginal dialect), “Freak off ya dumb broad”, and “crawl back to your hole, mole”, and other such trivia, and Cheze cried like a drain. But, showing her ‘bon ton’ (which was prettier than most) she quietly set about her plans.

The great day arrived at last after a lot of bustle and activity – and those two dames sure had a lot of bustle – and, dressed up like a Mulawa revue, off they went with auntie in attendance.

Meanwhile, back at the shack, Cheze was frantically paring the calluses off her knees and muttering incantations – which everybody knows is definitely more `U’ than rhubarb. Rubbing two boy-scouts together in a peculiar way a plastic genie appeared saying “I am the fairy of the lump – what do you want you stupid chump?” Cheze leaped back with fright and fell into the grate (a sort of grated Cheze). Luckily the fire was out.

“Twit!” She said.

“Twit t’you!” Said the genie owlishly. “I am here to obey your every command!”

“Oh goody!” Said Cheze. “Then first of all get those two boy-scouts out of here, they’re nauseating.”

This being done she then explained her pre-dicky-meant and was promptly bedecked in satins and lace. Being still loaded with soot and ash from the grate this wasn’t an immediate success, however it was quickly put to rights.

Cheze was beside herself – a sort of double Stilton – and gazing into the mirror intoned, “magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of us all?” To which the M.M. replied. “Of all the girls who are so cute, there’s none as cute as you, you boot!” Reassured she set forth.

Meanwhile, back at the yacht, all was gaiety and music and the fairy lights cast dancing shadows over the loaded throng. In the dark patches of the boat deck secretive whispers and giggles were punctuated at regular intervals by Anastasia puking over the taffrail.

Just before the witching hour when the ball was at its height (shades of Mad Carew), a hush descended on the throng (Anastasia being empty at this stage) and all gazed in wonder at the gorgeous doll who had appeared.

The rich boy blunder made a gurgling sound, which was not surprising considering the amount of booze he’d quaffed, and stepping forward briskly he grabbed her by the lower band and sloped arms with her. This position changed subtly to an `Oklahoma Hello’ and Cheze knew this was love at first bite.

Priscilla, recognising Cheze (she was a gourmet), dashed up and started screaming like a jackass (?). The B.B. snapped at her. “Can it! Gargoyle!” This crushed her utterly, and that is about the worst place you can crush a woman that size, and she snuck off with her flail between her legs.

The B.B. told Cheze that he loved her and that he fancied her alfresco (which is a piece I know nothing about) and promptly opened a door to one side of the ballroom. Seeing only darkness beyond he pushed Cheze through and quickly followed her. This was rather unfortunate because it happened to be the ‘slop chute’ and they both plummeted to the murky depths.

“So folks, just remember this Christmas, if you start groping for a Cheze in the dark you may end up in a pickle!”