Lie through your teeth

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I have completed all my homework.

I have a 40 inch cock.

I have a 10-inch pianist.

http://www3.sympatico.ca/bparker/nswcom ... ooster.jpg

Follow the link to see my cock.

I helped raise a million dollars for Hillary Clinton.

I am Barack Obama.

WOLF!! !!

Obama would make a great president and so would Hillary.

I hate guns.

I hate guns.

I am Alex plank's future daughter.

I'm a hippie.

I abhor anything artistic.

(God, is it me or does anyone else find it really uncomfortable lying, even for a game?)

I hate books, and I burn them regularly.

At eleven each day, Kelly Brook and I are awoken by my Butler, Mr Eubank, who brings us hand-written newspapers for the day ahead, fresh green tea, and scrambled eggs with shaved truffles. We savour the view from the french windows of our 13th Century mock-tudor stone castle set in the rolling Cotswold Hills, before slipping on our Yorkshire Terrier dressing gowns and strolling around the grounds to bag a few wild hippo before lunch. A lengthy jaunt to the northern perimiter fence brings us to Loch Lomond and its famous reptilian monster. To the South lies the warmth and bright lights of Nice, to the West the beautiful shores of Ireland, and to the East, Peterborough.

Our gardener, Hugh Fearney-Wattleanddaub, grows wicker cane furniture and used car parts in three enormous greenhouses designed by Joseph Paxton. He also provides the ingredients for our normal midday snack, Caesar Salad ala Unipart, prepared by Nigella Lawson using her own secretions as the magic ingredient.

In the afternoon we might instruct Alain, our Driver, to take the Lagonda and pop us down to see Idi Amin, Helena Bonham Carter, Michael Winner, Cat Deeley and Geoffrey Archer in the Club: the normal tequila slammers set! Of course, if Kelly and I are in a rush we can always use the tandem, or fire up one of our collection of WW2 Wellington bombers.

Evening meals are a random affair with a smattering of European blue blood, some celebs and at least a couple of street urchins to keep us all amused with their thievery and foul language. The menu will depend on which Chef has paid us the most for the priviledge of cooking on the Castle's revolutionary nuclear range (which also supplies hot water for the radiators!). In the evening we have mind-blowingly fantastic sex until we are exhausted, then a couple of pints of Scapa (mixed with loose coal chippings for that authentic peaty taste) as a convenient pick-me-up, and then we set about repainting the bedroom. In this way we prevent boredom by ensuring that every morning the decor will be brand new and, furthermore, untarnished.