Darling, the foreign fighters who are moving into East Africa are complicating an already-rising crescendo of terror threats in the region. The threats have come from the Somalia-based al-Shabab extremist Islamic faction and from al-Qaida in East Africa, a small, hard-core group also known by the acronym EEAQ. I MUST do something. I've just got to.
My Sleeping Africa soon shall have no choice but to wake. I'm simply fraught in despair with this news, you know. I won't be able to look for help from that silly French make-believe King, as last I heard he still was chasing Ms. Bruni round the castle lawns in an attempt to put an end to her twittering ways. As if that is EVER going to happen. Please.
I am certain MY Queen will send all her forces to stop this tragedy from exploding. Darling, they're suicide bombers for heaven's sake. And if my colours serve me correct, I believe the President of the Western world has a few, if not loads, of ancestors in Africa, so I only can pray that he, too, will round up his troops to save his OWN people. Oh, but, aren't the Americans still up in a bit of a spot with Mr. O. over his Muslim heritage and all? Truly darling, Americans need learn to let go. Well, no bother, they can put that to the side for now, as we've bigger things to concern ourselves with other than which religion means what. I mean, darling, can you make any sense of it all? Anymore there seems far greater amounts of religions than there are couture designers, and both factions seem forever in some kind of fashion war. Anyhow,
other than these two world leaders I only can hope Queen Sophia and masses of other world leaders will join in the campaign to keep nasty foreigners with bad manners OUT OF AFRICA.
Darling, other than news of my passions, which I'm sure you've become frightfully bored upon reading; I just had to drop you a quick line that I've been invited this evening to join Fiona Kotur Marin and her crowd round 6p in the charming little French village of Domme. I have no doubt this shall be an event worthy of a Post story, as the last time I went traveling with this raucous bunch it was several days before I made my way home. Oh, and Charles and Sydney Finch are coming as well. They're quite nice in a, well, let's us say, quaint little way, you know? Not part of the usual crowd, so I'm sure it best that I lose them before they find ME.
Oh darling, the village is just bursting with grottes in the midst of 13th century buildings. There's even a bit of the daring and alluring that gets one's curiosity up in a bit of a peek, what with all those dark and mysterious alleys with just the right spot of danger. Please be ever so kind to leave a cablegram at the front desk of the Place de la Halle if you haven't heard from me sooner than later.
I'm in a mad dash that's just simply not going MY WAY, as the house help seems smitten with the bell boy and can't seem to keep her bottom from bending over needlessly. Darling, I mean, if you are going to bend over, for gawd's sake - pick something up and hand it to me.
I've got to run downstairs as the concierge has my Peugeot ready for my drive out. Yes, I'm driving the car and can't wait to floor it past 90 with my silk scarf whiping behind and round my new Persol 714 sunglasses. Oh, what a sight I shall be on the roads, not that I'll be able to see, but truly darling, it's the fashion I'm looking for.
au revoir-
-Jacqueline
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maybe if she didn't have a convertible.
ReplyDeleteyou know, just saying.