Super Christmas! In super Mustique and Bozzie adores his present! So relieved!! Because what do you give a busy PM and classicist who really does have everything?
Stanley: “Well, I know what any red-blooded Johnson male would like, only their wives never agree… “
Me: “He’s got me now, Stanley”.
Stanley: “What my son the PM lacks – nb, Carrie, a word to the wise, I imagine he might still be married if this aching hormonal need had been filled – is a trail bike.”
Me: “Aren’t they for kids?”
Stanley: “You would know better than I, dear girl, I mean that as the highest compliment.”
Me: “What about time?”
Stanley: “What do you think Cummings is for?”
Me: “And Stanley – the oceans!”
Stanley: “Most scientists would agree that any minor emissions will be offset if you forgo a matching present, thus incidentally perpetuating a tradition dear to all the higher-achieving Johnsons.”
So I was fine – almost! – when Bozzie did not even give me a minimal DCMS grant. But what is wrong with me, here I am writing this from actual Mustique! Thanks to Bozzie’s dear old wartime companion, Bizzie Bismarck. Countess B just asked if I would like to play bridge.
Me: “I’m all right thanks.”
Or help with her hunters in the snow jigsaw. Or take (another) look through the telescope. “Honestly, I’m fine.”
Mrs Bizzie: “Why don’t we enjoy a fun ‘girl talk’?”
There must be a polite way of saying: “Because I’m a millennial for Christ’s sake, it’s like talking to my mum.”
Where is Bozzie? Where did I see him last? That New Year’s beach party! At least I know the protection officers are with him. Oh. Here come the protection officers. No, I say, I have no idea.
As told to Catherine Bennett
