[I wrote this story for my sister back in the early noughties, as a spoof on the romantic chicklit that flourished at that time. There are many, many in-jokes here, including quite a few lines taken from the script of that incomparable chick flick, Clueless.]
Bunty had ordered extra Japanese sea cucumber for lunch, bless him, in special consideration for my feelings. I cut it into slices and popped one over each eye. We sat outside at Vincenzo’s bistro on Densington High Street, as we were wont to do. Opposite us, a small table was marked Reserved – Prime Minister. Vincenzo’s had an exclusive clientèle.
“Simon really went too far this morning,” agreed Bunty, tucking into his pan-fried pigeon foot. “I know he’s an idiot, but criticizing your sandals? You have exquisite taste, Daisy.”
“He’s a rubbish kisser, too,” I moaned. Bunty winced slightly as if he’d cracked a pigeon bone, but said nothing, so I carried on regardless. “And I can’t believe it all happened in front of that dishy, delectable, drop-dead hunk who materialized today like a heavenly chorus of angels! My God!”
“Who would that be?” feigned Bunty.
“Didn’t you see him?” I asked, astonished. “Here – “
I snatched up my phone and cycled through the images. Gary winning Can’t Diet Won’t Diet. Gary and his own weight in hamburgers. Gary being kissed by Myleene Klass. Ah – Toby, looking slightly stunned in the lift.
Continue reading “Daisy Chicklit Gets her Guy: Chapter 2 (of 4)”