How I love you in ways I cannot express. Or: Please excuse my tardiness, I was washing my hair.

Dear Friends, Enemies and Passing Ladybug Fanciers,

I haven't posted recently because my kitchen cupboard was on fire.

I am also engineering the downfall of the government and didn't want to alert suspicion. You see, I just can't help but talk/write about it, it's so damn exciting. Dang!

I burnt all my fingerprints off in a freak wetsuit-removing accident and now have to type with a toothpick held between my teeth. It is difficult and/or painful.

Slasher McTook gnawed the ends of all the leads and cords and wires and dooverwackies needed for the computer-internet thing to work and thus I was left only with my carrier pigeon, Freckles, as a means of communication. Freckles is an octogenarian in pigeon years, is colour blind and has very poor directional skills for a carrier pigeon.

During this time, my sweet Toby also became Radioactive Cat, via a small mishap with a pair of radioactive tweezers and thus I have had to spend many days sewing little lycra suits, but no capes. I am also attempting to compose a jingle and opening catch-cry. But nothing beats: "When Eric eats a banana..." I am at am impasse. Please send suggestions if not already copyrighted.

Please pass my regards onto your mother and tell her I think the apron looks lovely regardless of what Flora says. I can arrange a "little accident" if need be, tell her that.

As to your own question, I did not know you then and certainly had nothing to do with putting that hair in your mouth while you slept. Have you tried electrolysis?

Yours,

Bianca Jagger