Stinker Traitor Shifty Spy

Whistleblower, Julian Assange, has decided to make appearances again. Savvy Hebug, he knows  any publicity is good publicity whether from a balcony or lack lustre press conference. 

But let us not be too hasty to judge. Perhaps he feels a tad guilty about the £11,600 a day police coverage we taxpayers are obliged to foot. In case you are as bad at maths as I am, the total to date comes dangerously close to the £4.5 million mark. Ay, caramba!

The WikiLeaks editor-in-chief claims his health is failing. Frankly, I can sympathise: it is rare that I spend an entire day in the house, rain or shine, before my inner panther begins to climb the walls. How Assange survives with 3 seconds of  English sunlight a day boggles the mind.   

Granted, the average person would need to pay roughly £34,000 to reside in a one bedroom flat in Knightsbridge, whereas the accused doesn't pay a penny. But living across from Harrods on the run up to Christmas or during the sales, must be a veritable nightmare between the noisy delivery trucks and  the scent of Hooka pipes wafting over from nearby Beauchamp Place would make anybody's skin turn seriously sallow.

But considering who and what awaits him no sooner he exits the Ecuadorian Embassy, I'd continue to bleach my  own locks, spend another £9,000 on take outs, continue learning Spanish gratis - basically resign myself to re-evaluating, repenting and avoid regressing with too many hours wasted on Netflix.   

Frankly, the colour orange does not suit my skin tones. The only way I would set foot outside the host embassy's doors would be to... vanish. But has it occurred to anyone that maybe it is not Assange's choice at all, and that the smell of a two-year-old fish might outweigh the thrill of celebrity guests who traipse in and out of the Ecuadorian embassy? Could it be that the thrill is gone?

Consider this: Assange's Frenemy List includes people such as Birgitta Jonsdottir (Icelandic Prime Minister), socialite Jemima Khan and  an army of journalists and biography writers, none of which like to loose face, faith or money.  Lady Gaga is obviously too busy to pay her buddy a visit; after all, OTT reinvention is not fabricated overnight. 

Below is a charity lunch Julian Assange is offering to the highest bidder. (I kid you not - talk about men and their egos...) Isn't he afraid that either the US, UK or the Swedish authorities might slip in one of their own and use this to their advantage? 

Malheureusement, Mr. Assange does not look anything like Benedict Cumberbatch who played the role of Assange in the film The Fifth Estate. Hence, as a potential bidder, I would rather pay more than double and experience a seven-day, all-expenses paid trip for 2 to Abu Dhabi as guests of the Crown Prince & His Chameaux.

How To Marry a Millionaire

Today may be the start of grouse season, but I’m more interested in another a much more elegant bird, the Swan. One of these rare graces flew away only yesterday.

Her name? The inimitable enviably chic Lauren Bacall.

The legendary silver screen actress personified a rare kind of ‘sultry cool’. Throughout her life and her career, this Swan remained a lady through and through, whether angling for a big fish in the Big Apple or hunkering down in blustery and steaming Key Largo.

The reason I am honouring her today on Shebug Stories is because of a delicious1953 comedy she starred in, ‘How to Marry a Millionaire.’ 

Many of you, myself included, weren’t even born then. But if you have not seen it because you live half way across the world or on the opposite hemisphere from Hollywood, find it. If you are a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old, download it, or better yet, just rent it.

You’ll be transported to a promising and shiny New York City and visually glide into a penthouse overlooking Central Park. You’ll meet her roommates, Marilyn Monroe and Betty Grable, Shebugs you cannot help but root for.

Feast your eyes on the glamour, howl at the quips, delight at their daring-dos and soak in Bacall’s renowned husky tones.

The Swan, however, was not born with the best voice in the business. She failed a screen test on account of her high-pitched voice. No push over, Lauren Bacall honed hers with sheer determination and shatterproof discipline.

At the tender age of nineteen, Bacall’s scene was also her first. In 1944, she made her debut in To Have an Have Not, when she famously taught Humphrey Bogart how to whistle. The two fell in love before America’s eyes and would remain so till Bogart’s death.

A real love story.

Lauren Becall will be lighting up the skies from above like only true stars can.

Ladies of London

A very successful switched on Californian who follows my blog – and has read every Shebug book and novel I have ever written – tipped me off to this delicious State-side show: Ladies of London.

It’s no Downton Abbey. Au contraire: it’s Reality TV. Mind you, I do not ‘do’ reality TV. Too many fabulous people I care to mention are inexplicably addicted to ‘Made in Chelsea’. I had this shot taken, for my daughters’ sake, naturellement, when they were filming outside my house. His name is Fred, and is rather sweet, actually. The other blonde flanking him lives a few doors down and was all too happy to include herself in the picture.

Ladies in London is not about too-rich-&-too bored twenty-somethings, but rather a blend of seven 30+ über-high maintenance women. Fortunately, two brunettes break up the sea of professionally coiffed shades of blondes who sometimes pass for a multiple set of the Olsen twins until they open their mouths.

Please note that the cast of characters fragrant with Eau de Furball is listed alphabetically and not by size of ego.

Yanks (all married to the Queen’s Subjects)

Caprice Bourret: Pregnant Queen Bee

Julie Montagu: Yoga/Wellness Warrior, now Lady Hichingbrook, daughter-in-law of Earl of Sandwich. For real.

Juliet Angus: Brunette Fashion Consultant/ Stylist

Marissa Hermer: Married to successful restaurateur/nightclub entrepreneur. Works in family business.

Noelle Reno: Fashion Entrepreneur/TV presenter

Brits

Annabel Neilsen: Carla Bruni’s sister (well, she could pass for one), socialite/author.

Caroline Stanbury: The other Queen Bee.  Society stylist who runs luxury gifting, personal shopping & wedding shops.

The 2.5 Yanks to Brits - the latter ready to defend their Queen-dom to the end - makes for a purrrfect beehive buzzing with hilarious dialogue and blood-letting repartee… Below are a select few of them:

When all are invited to spend a weekend at Mapperton House, Julie’s husband’s ancestral estate…

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Venison.”

Gasps ensue.

“Oh, I know, it’s…Bambi.”

‘But it’s not eating Bambi!”

“I’M- NOT- EATING -VENISON.”

The British Queen Bee makes a running commentary on her friends as they arrive in their finery to dine at Mapperton House…

“Juliet looks like a scullery maid. I want to give her a duster! Marissa looks like she’s going to a toga party…”

Here’s a good observation made by Marissa on the night if ever there was one…

“I don’t know what it is about British aristocracy, but the more aristocratic they are, you can always assume there will be a few eccentrics around.”

Such a priceless scoop. I'm already hooked!