New pith helmet.

I've worn mine out with all the elephant hunting and decadent alchohol
and medical quality amphetamine fuelled cocktail parties I attended this weekend.

I crashed the Rolls twice and may have killed next door's peacock
but Carstairs says no-one will notice as everyone will still be talking about me
rogering their butler (Bertrum) with a 12 bore and singing Lili Marlene
(rather well, I thought) to the tune of 'She'll be coming round the mountains'.

Thank the lord it's Monday, I have all week to get my eyebrows painted
(they got rubbed off while I was hamster bobbing) and my face revarnished
and can relax till next weekend. Bliss.