There's a lady in the Blog World called Mrs Pouncer, she's extremely charming and erudite and puts me to shame. I'm hoping that she'll teach me how to be a lady - just like what she is. I know I have vulgar ways and that I'm not much more than a gutteral peroxide blonde in need of a good scrubbing, inside and out; and that I'm no better than I ought to be (so my Mum's always saying) . . . but this is why I need you Mrs Pouncer . . . I think my vulgar ways are putting the gentlemen off . . . I'm fun for a frolic . . . a bag of pork scratchings and a Moscow Mule, but that's about it.
I know that Mrs Pouncer won't come here to give me instruction, it's far too grubby, but I'm hoping she'll sort me out over at hers . . . she's about the poshest person I've ever met . . . so I've linked her as 'HRH'. And she seems to know so much about flattering underwear, which is always a plus.