It was dark outside when Donald answere the door. She had said she would be there at 6 o clock but now it was more like 9.00. She was covered in vaseline and asked if she could borrow a hanky.

For a moment he thought she might be rubber/vaseline fetishist . But she didn't seem quite as psychotic as most of the people he'd met latelty so he helped her to de-vas herself..

Donald made a living nowadays as a sagger-maker's bottom-knocker.

.............

She spent days trailing around after him, collecting video footage for her net site and listening to stories about the time Shiela Tequilla and he had "been too much for Naples".

The pantomime developed loosely around the tale of Cinderella. Donald was Donald, the Prince was a symbol, the Sista a big bass drum and Buttons a chocolate cha-cha boy

It all went well until the night of the performance, when, after drinking the free vodka, Donald fell dead into his chicken bhuna.

She couldn't believe her luck - her mutton tikka was really crap

and the hotel fire alarm went off at 5.00am in the morning. They all looked dog rough, except for Donald who had matching blue cotton Pyjamas.

They never found out "who done it" but at the end of the day - shit happens.