Carol Malia - The Bundle of Joy is Delivered.

Crusty was delighted this evening to discover that the North East of England's jewel in the crown, Her Serene Highness Carol of Malia, has given birth to an absolutely gorgeous baby girl; Anna Margaret.

Juicy Jeff Brown shared a wonderful picture with the region - complete with soft cloudy edging - of the elated parents with their 7lb 5oz new addition. At first, I thought the cloudiness was due to over indulging on the gin, but Chu Me confirmed it was a photographic affect.

One never knew that our poppet was married to such a studmuffin; the lovely Gary! One thing is for sure with two parents genetically laden with such gorgeousness, little Anna will certainly grow up to be a beautiful individual and be talented beyond all her parents hopes and aspirations.

My faitfhful houseboy, Chu Me, has sent word to his mother in her Haitian prison cell. She is disappointed that she was not able to knit some luxurious baby clothes as planned but after "the incident" it became impossible. Instead, last night, there was rejoicing from all corners of her institution with ticker-tape flying everywhere. At first, the guards thought there was a riot until they were informed of the joyous news and realised it was merely a celebration and, naturally, joined in.

Crusty wishes Carol and Gary and wonderful future with their little angelic addition. She will always have a fairy Godmother looking out for her.

One Wants Colin Briggs - One Gets A Banana!

I was munching on Chu Me’s deliciously succulent eggs this morning and I turned on my 28 incher in the bedroom waiting for my daily injection of news.

As I looked down to smother a soldier in Chu Me’s golden creamy yolks I heard, “ …here's the news from your region”; I felt a quiver of excitement as I waited for the George Clooney of breakfast news, Colin ­his-twinkle-makes-y’tingle Briggs (Last night, the North East was privileged enough to have him presenting the evening news. I swear he looked as if he’d just walked off an Armani fashion shoot and into the BBC studios!)

Anyhoo …when I heard a high pitched whine, saw the remainder of my breakfast shrivel up to nothing and saw Crotchet roll onto his back, cover his ears with his paws and hiss, I realised I had accidentally switched to ITV and not the BBC.

When I looked up - while frantically trying to get my finger upon the number “1” button - I caught a brief glimpse of Helen Peengpong(or some such fancy) clad in an eye-scorching yellow summer frock.

Really, dears, when I want to be brought up to date with my beloved region’s news, one doesn’t want to hear it from a giant squeaking banana with a squint!

Thankfully, Armani Briggs was at hand 20 minutes later to soothe my burning retinas... he's marvellous!

Crusty Visits Seaham Car Boot Fair

Crusty awoke this morning wondering what she could do to break the day up. One had planned to do very little but felt one needed to exercise oneself in some way.

Fortunately, Chu Me had been doing some research on his computer on, one presumes, the Navy; he had typed, what he thought was, "Seamen" but had actually typed "Seaham" and as a result of this error, he found there was a Car Boot Fair held every Sunday in Seaham. When I heard this information I decided it was a splendid answer to the question I had put to myself.

For those people fortunate enough not to have visited Seaham, it was once a small agricultural area which was made famous when one of its residents, Anne Isabella Millbanke, married Lord Byron in 1815. Evidently, Lord Byron found boredom a constant companion when he resided there - which, in fairness, doesn't say a lot for poor Anne, does it? - but found the sea enthralling and no doubt he felt the urge to walk into it on many occasions after returning home to his less than entertaining wife.

Later the port was built but was never considered big enough for the business it was to receive. Mining was also a source of income to the community until all three of its pits closed, including Seaham Colliery - known locally as "the Knacks". To this day it's as if the knackers are just hanging about, suspended in a state of limbo, waiting for a role to fill.

Anyhoo .... Chu Me and I took the Bentley to the event and one had a sashay around the stalls. As one entered the arena of tat I noticed a couple of stalls selling fresh fruit and vegetables. This confused Crusty somewhat, as the people visiting didn't appear to have consumed either for some considerable time; in fact, the children looked upon the plumbs, potatoes and oranges as exotic, priceless jewels beyond their reach and status.

As one wandered past stall after stall, one realised that one had never seen so much rubbish collated in one place and as one battled on, a young gentleman accompanied by his wife/girlfriend/sister - or all three -passed us and I overheard him say, " .. a lot of people like to buy shit." The grey sweatpant ensemble he had opted for and the sparkly top, headband and tatty extensions his lady friend were wearing certainly gave support to his argument.

It was not until I wondered past a lady selling make-up that I realised I had had enough. This poor individual - with a face like an Ordnance Survey map of the Lake District and chewing on her fingernails like they were her last meal - was not being in the slightest successful in selling her wares and though she had L'Oreal included in her merchandise, she clearly wasn't worth it!

Crusty's Titanic Dream.

Now that Britain's Got Talent has ended its run, Crusty has had withdrawal symptoms from not having the adorable Ant McPartlin and Declan Donnelly popping on and off my 28 incher with weekly regularity. So much so that the other night was spent continually tossing and by the morning I was exhausted.

The reason? A dream that I was enjoying a weekend on the high seas on Lady Gusset - my private yacht - There was Chu Me, Antony and Declan and Crusty. We had enjoyed a gorgeous weekend with glorious weather until suddenly we drifted off course and my luxurious vessel hit an iceberg.

The rest of the dream was very hazy. All I remember is a gurgling noise and Chu Me and Ant jumping to safety, grasping at their dinghy in desperation ... then an eerie silence ... an eerie silence that was shattered as Ant let out a deafening scream as I slowly went down with both hands on deck.

Separated at Birth?

Is it just Crusty or was there some awful tragedy in our recent history, when a mother left hospital with only one child instead of two?

This would certainly explain many things; chaos and terror in the heart of Gotham City and the same throughout Her Majesty's realm. We've also just seen Catty Woman resign so there is another thing we must take into account.

Crusty hopes they are reunited very soon!

Crusty Cures Sweating at Crusty Hall?

Crusty has been feeling a little low this week since Señor Sun slowly tipped his hat and bid farewell for a spell. .

So, instead, I spent more time inside watching television. This week Embarrassing Bodies with the dazzlingly dashing Dr. Christian Jessen; he with the body of finely sculpted marble and the grin that makes one’s apertures blow secret kisses from down below.

As usual there was an array of problems this week; a rotting armpit (so disgusting I had to look away and stroke my Crotchet), a lady with piles (Chu Me had just arrived with a plate of grapes but spun on his little heels and left immediately when he saw it), upturned toes and a young man introduced to us who was having problems with a sore penis.

My attention was instantly aroused and I was eager to help Dr. Christian by offering to rub any required cream on the affected area, but then the young man didn’t appear to be that young at all and as he whipped down his drawers to reveal a little shrivelled sausage, I sat back and thought it better left to a professional.

One segment that interested me greatly was that of the young lady who had a sweating problem. Dr. Christian demonstrated to us how we sweat - by having a good pumping session in a gym - then whipping off his vest ….oh, my! … the shimmering beads of doctor-dew clinging to his rippling [ahem!] …and weighing the removed garment on some scales.

Well, our medical team suggested a remedy for our damsel in distress, whereby hands are placed on mats and an electric current is passed through the body to reset the glands. Here at Crusty Hall, a member of the household staff also has a frightful sweating problem; on hot summer days she is forever dripping over my antique furniture and indeed one finds globules of her bodily residue where one least expects them.

It was at this stage that Crusty has a Eureka moment; My faithful houseboy, Chu Me, brought the staff member to the utility room where I explained I was going to cure her of her embarrassing problem. I asked her to stand in a bucket of water then lightly sprayed her to moisten her apparel. Chu Me and I stood back and asked her to now pick up the two cables at either side of her – one in each hand.

As she picked up the two live cables – oh, did I omit that information? – we waited for the miracle to occur.

5 minutes later we stopped as the treatment wasn’t working in the slightest. The girl was still sweating – more so, in fact – though one suspects it was due to the energy she was using to grit her teeth!

Caroline Flint Clomps Away From Cabinet

Well, poppets, the state of British politics is certainly bobbing along on the winds of change, is it not? The expenses malarkey has certainly made people stand up and think and certainly made our long, long, long, long ... well, it seems like eternally serving .... Labour politicians stand up and think how quickly and effectively they can stab our Prime Minister in the back.

One has never been particularly fond of Gordon I'm-sinking-faster-than-a-hooker-with-two-minutes Brown but must admit there was a squeal of glee from Crusty's vocal opening when the pool of noxious slime - Brown's predecessor, Tony Blair - was booted out/resigned* (*- delete as appropriate).

Anyhoo .... dressed in something far too tight for her shape - which had clearly been last put on a boil wash in error - Europe Minister Caroline my-haircolour's-natural Flint clomped up the path of Downing Street to deliver her resignation.

She explained to the Prime Minister that he was only using her as "female window dressing".

Goodness me, poppets, he'd need to invest in a substantially wide window and once in situ I would doubt the sight of that one on display would entice anyone into the shop!