Fame, fortune and corner time

You know what it’s like. One star-studded book launch party after another; glitz and glamour and limousines and red carpet and cocktails and cute little snacks brought to you on silver platters. Photographs and interviews and TV appearances; meetings with reps from fashion houses angling for endorsements (“The ‘Penny’ line of pleated miniskirts, for the modern woman who never wanted to leave school”); tours of one’s humble abode for the press (the Hello! guy has awfully roving hands, be warned). And all the while looking radiant, carefree and flawless. (It’s a good thing I have a team to take care of that. Where would I be without my eyebrow technician?)

It’s almost enough to make a girl big-headed.

Lucky for me, then, that I have BH to keep me grounded. And spanked. And writing lines. Without him to yank me to one side and tell me I’ll be getting it good who knows what I would get up to... I’d likely be splashed across the papers after every party, pictured on the floor with my expensive dress hitched up, locked in a hair-pulling fight to the death with the bitchy critic who gave my book a thumbs down.

Still, he is a bit over-zealous sometimes. So I maybe had a few Martinis at the last bash and got a bit lively... so I maybe said I was going to give that snidey cow from Cosmo a slap... so I maybe sat on the floor in the middle of a toast and started singing ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’, merrily pulling a pair of invisible oars to and fro*...

...does that really warrant being spanked before bed and given ‘detention’ for a week?

*Pre-BH, I went out with a rugby player. He and I apparently did this for hours at a house party. I was too *cough* stoned to remember much about it.