Bollywood Babe.

Friends!

Oh my morderrr!

The dream I had last night come straight from the jaws o' hell!!

I think the ooman who useta live here is trying to haunt me. She must be jellis o' me. 

The grapevine say she was evil and vile. 

The grapevine say she was the epitome of malignant maleficence. She ain't dead, but she badniss linger like a long-living malingerer. 

The grapevine say she husband so scared o' she, he scared to leave she.

Anyway, despite the dream, I had sound sleep. I wake up with pep in me step. Sun bright. Time to work on Book Two. I put on Bollywood songs.

Suddenly! People! See me here! On stage, lights bright like supernova or whateva.

I am Ashwarya Rai out-shaking Shakira, nahi-nahi, no-no, I am Bollywood Babe.

I knock de dholak, tump de tabla, roll out dem raagas like pro.

The crowd gone wild, screaming, throwing theyself at the stage. 

Shah Rukh, King of Bollywood with the gorgeous dark eyes, join me.

Security had to climb up on one another shoulders to hold up the roof.

The shaking and tumping was so hard, the stage wobble...

...wobble...

...Ooops.

Learn this, lovely ones...bed ain't a place to dance on.

Mwah, mwah, blowin' kisses, blowing kisses to my fans.

I gone to work on Book Two.

Have a luverly weekend.

Plenty lurve, neena xx.

P.S. I gon campaign for supermarkets and hardware and electronic stores and malls to start playing Happy Bollywood songs. Lads and Lasses gon magically change clothes 3, 4 times, and they gon frolic and flirt around displays.