Evil Has A Face

And this is it. Oh yes, harmless enough at first sight, I grant you, that's even quite a nice little ribbon but DON'T BE FOOLED, dear reader. This chocolate bunny will give you ... (wait for it) ... WOBBLY BITS. G.O.G.H (no, not the self-mutilating Dutch artist, it stands for Gasp Of Gay Horror - much more traumatic). If you've noticed a slight hiatus in posting this week, it's because after the excesses of the holiday weekend, I've been staying in to concentrate on not eating (my emphasis). For, in the words of my favourite medieval round, "Summer is y-comen in, Loudè sing, cuckoo!" (don't start singing it, or we'll never get to the end of this). And, therefore, the human-puffa-jacket look is OUT. The good news is that from tomorrow I shall be re-introducing solids into my diet, after having "re-educated" my tastebuds. I'm starting with Beyonce's tried and tested three-slices-of- tomato-and-three-of-cucumber a day régime and hope to graduate to the Elizabeth Hurley 12-grapes-and-a-crispbread by Sunday. Vodka doesn't count, obviously, and neither does anything you eat when you're p*ssed. A week should do it. Wish me luck!