Nana Mouskouri Does GMTV Local News?!

My darling Crustettes, as your mistress sits in her beautifully decorated private office, she feels she needs to share her thoughts with those she loves.

Yesterday I arose around 7.01 in the morning. I brought my 28 incher to life and enjoyed a spattering of BBC Breakfast before my hand, as a matter of instinct, picked up the remote and switched the channel to GMTV (the set colours of which remind one of a children's nursery, although that explains the way they talk to their viewers). Anyhoo ... my hand action was occurring at the very time of the morning when my little Marky would normally appear in front of me and get to work giving me the low down on the region I love best.

Though I was thinking "No! No!", I could hear my inner voice slurring, "it might not be that bad. " and I braced myself for our local bulletin; I was still praying that at the eleventh hour a reprieve had been granted and I could see my gorgeous, tanned, shimmering Adonis greeting me with his, "Hello...Good Morning."

Instead, I was shocked to see a rather pale and knackered looking Nana Mouskouri sitting in front of a sunny, blue, cloudyesque back drop (one imagines taken from the 70s section of the archive department); her hair not the vibrant example of bounce we know and love but lank and seemingly set not in a cloud of hairspray but, evidently, with a gentle application of Fry Light. Then several seconds later, I was shocked and relieved to find it wasn't the lovely Nana but, in fact, a girl called Helen Peedon or some such fancy.

I could not watch any longer; after only 32½ seconds I screamed and threw the remote at Chu Me, who had just entered for my breakfast order. He kindly turned the channel back to little Billy Turnbull.

I shall NEVER watch that pile of poo again and I can only pray my loyal Crustettes do not inflict this unnecessary suffering on themselves; be enveloped in the warmth of Colin his-twinkle-makes-y'-tingle Briggs until Mark returns to our screens and then we can enjoy both and balance will be restored.

Beckham v Cole - Wags War Continues

The Wags War is entering a new phase according to Closer magazine.

Victoria Beckham has hit back at the clusters of projectile poison Cheryl y-nailed it Cole has been firing at her.

Victoria apparently finds it ironic that Cheryl bitches about her recent fashion range; She says before they were friends, Cheryl - the ample ankle antagonist - had no idea about fashion or couture and couldn’t manage to put an outfit together.

It would appear nothing’s changed, dear; all that money and she still looks a state!

More Annoying Than Cheryl Cole? Surely Not!

Just when I thought there was no one more annoying then Cheryl y’nailed-it Cole, I was surpised to come across just that in Michelle Heaton.

Michelle is, as it seems always necessary for magazines to remind us, a former popstar from a group called Liberty X, whose many memorable hits include ……..er…….oh wasn’t …..well, perhaps you can look them up at your leisure!

Crustettes will recognise her from Celebrity Big Brother 2009 and every glossy gossip magazine being published at the moment; she has scarily plucked, shaped eyebrows with a high forehead like a Klingon warrior.

She’s reported to have told New magazine that she feels she could never be a model and Crusty, for one, would never ever want her to be; there’s a certain look that one must have to be successfully splashed across glossy pages and loved by the masses and, sadly dear, you don’t have it.

Crusty believes the proof of the pudding is in the photoshoot carried out by New magazine where they attempt to put Michelle in the same poses as the gorgeous Victoria Beckham from her recent Armani advertisements. In these adverts Victoria pulls off the sultry poses with amazing success, however, poor Michelle ....well ..... she struggles indeed and on one photograph sat at the end of a bed pouting with a short, curly hairstyle actual is more akin to Tom Jones in a black bra and granny pants than the delectable Mrs. B.

Though modelling is clearly not for her, thankfully she is eloquent. In the same magazine she is asked a question about an alleged affair with Eastenders parcel of perfection Matt Di Angelo and answers, “ I answered what I answered last year, so you can get some answers from that."

Don’t try riddles, dear, your boobs will burst!

Au Revoir Mark Warr

Crusty is festooned in black lace, her face shrouded by a black veil, and all members of the staff at Crusty Hall are donning black arm bands in mourning at the loss of the gorgeous Mark Warr from Tyne Tees Television. He was finally made redundant today, 24th February 2009.

Mark, as my loyal Crustettes will know, was viciously made redundant from Tyne Tees news department by an executive who misguidedly thought he/she was capable of making an objective decision during the recent ITV downsize.

How wrong they were … and heaven only knows what waste-of-space we are to endure in his place or what strange non-native accent we will be subjected to. I for one will never know as I shall not be watching.

My faithful houseboy, Chu Me, sensed that his mistress has been slipping into an abyss of despair over the last week and instructed a young staff member from the laundry room to stay with me while he was busy tending to the efficient running of my Hall.

Last night, as I felt listless and thought my depression could not sink any lower, I staggered up the stone staircase of the tower on the east wing, my young companion in tow, and stood at the summit waling and snivelling, trying to swallow my Gin without choking as I gasped at the air for my next breath. As I stood their looking at the sheer drop beneath me, there was only one thing I could do to try to relieve the pain……so I pushed my chaperone off the edge and as I heard her screams disappearing beneath me I realised it didn’t make me feel any better at all!

I returned to my private office alone and wrote my own little homage to my early morning studmuffin. A sentimental piece of private poetry that was emailed to him in time for his last two bulletins.

I’m quite sure he will be snapped up and be back in our lives again.

Israel On A Road To Peace?

I caught a brief snippet of the news on television this morning while my shoes were being fitted by a member of the household.

Apparently, Israel is to have Benyamin NotyetinYahoo running things. Let us pray he can bring some peace to his troubled region.

Mystical Mistress Crusty Answers Your Letters

Well, since reporting my new found role as Agony Aunt to the nation, my box has been well and truly filled...and as one suspected, it was agony. There are far too many to go through but I have selected a few urgent ones:

Dame Crusty,

My non-existent bust is ruining my life! My uncle grew breasts taking hormone tablets for prostate cancer - would they work?

Pippa, 26

I'm sure they would, dear, but you must make sure your uncle hasn't grown attached to his fine pair of bangers before you have them fitted.

I have a lump in my neck that looks like an Adam's Apple. Am I turning into a man?

Jean, Oxford

I would have to say not, poppet, but if you find yourself scratching a pair of balls in your downstairs area while watching the football, I would seek medical advise immediately.

Dearest Crusty,

I've tried Viagra but still can't get an erection....

Raul, 36

Thank you for sharing, dear, but you're no use to me....try Jeremy Kyle!

Chu Me - A Valuable Lesson Learned!

Friday night and I had finally managed to persuade my faithful houseboy to leave his duties and have a night off.

All the staff had left Crusty Hall and the security devices throughout the grounds were set, so I felt safe within my fortress of solitude. I told him to go and let his hair down; enjoy a night of cocktails in the watering holes of Newcastle city centre; there’s nothing he likes more, to help him relax, than force a few Black Russians down the back of his throat, I can tell you.

Next morning I unlocked the front door to find a rather tired and scruffy Chu Me standing in front of me. As I raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he slid past me, with a look of shame on his face, and headed towards his quarters mumbling under his breath.

It was not until my darling Mark Warr, emailed me with concerns about Chu Me’s well being that the full picture began to emerge. Evidently Mark, while on a night out, had seen someone huddled up, shivering in a doorway at Newcastle Central Station. After poking away gently he realised it was Chu Me he had come across.

Chu Me had explained that he had returned to Crusty Hall but he had lost his key (again, I might add – no matter what I tie it tightly around he always loses it!). Apparently my back entrance had been well and truly pummelled with his little fist but I was completely unaware of it. Anyhoo.... he had made his way back to the city centre in search for another cocktail or two to dull h is frustration.

Mark suggested Chu Me seek shelter and warmth somewhere in the Station and eventually he found it in the overnight toilet in the station; he would stay there until morning arrived.

He managed to get some sleep before a railway porter came in, knelt by him and blew his whistle; Chu Me moaned, blinked his tired eyes rapidly and shot off within seconds.

Thank you Mark, I am indebted to you, dear!

As for Chu Me…well I think he has learned a valuable lesson.