A new diet recommends “weight-loss on an energy restricted, low-fat, sugar-containing diet”. In other words, through sucking sweets. Will it be the talk of London Fashion Week?
“Darling! Mwah!”
“Mwah, darling, mwah. I say, you are looking thin.”
“Nonsense, darling. Shall we sit here? By the window?”
“Let’s. But I mean it. Hips jutting, ribs like a xylophone; why, you look positively Ethiopian!”
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“Darling! I shall blush.”
“Blush away. You deserve it. You know, I could almost swear you were anorexic.”
“That . . . is the nicest thing . . . anybody has said to me for . . . I’m sorry? Just a mineral water please. With a dash of vodka. Thanks.”
“I’ll have the same. But credit where credit is due. Darling, lean forward and whisper your secret. How did you do it?” “Darling. Sweeties.”
“Sweetie! Darling!”
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“No, darling. Actual sweeties. This morning, my breakfast was a lollipop.”
“No! I shall die!”
“And 20 Marlboro Lights. But die away, because it’s absolutely true.”
“How marvellous! You are the barely living proof!”
“Aren’t I? And I haven’t eaten a vegetable in weeks. I gather they did all these trials on taxi drivers. They wanted sedentary men, you see. They got hold of a batch in London, Edinburgh and Birmingham and . . .”
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“Where, darling?”
“Birmingham? Not a clue. But they stuffed them all full of sweets. Positively foie gras-ed the things down their stomachs. And would you believe it? The pounds couldn’t have fallen off them faster if they were lepers, darling.”
“How heavenly! But tell me. Does one hold the sweets down? Or does one . . . expel?”
“The old Condé Nast Toilet Heave? Not necessary, darling.”
“My goodness. Isn’t this quite the most exciting thing? And are all the girls quite gorging themselves?”
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“Of course they are. Kate has developed a raging pash for cola-cubes, and Gisele is a Smartie fiend. Rumour has it that Naomi quite exploded at an assistant yesterday, just before Julien’s. The poor love had forgotten her sherbet dip.”
“How frightful. But what about the face? Doesn’t one break out all Posh Spice?”
“Don’t worry, darling. The Botox deals with that. Simply nobody has living flesh on their faces these days.”
“Of course they don’t. How silly of me. Oh look, that little waiter man is coming back. What shall I eat?”
“Well sweeties, darling!”
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“Darling sweetie, I’m sorry. It’s just you’ve been telling me all these marvellous stories and I haven’t had time to . . .”
“No darling, you’ve done it again. I meant sweeties. Have the sweeties. It’s terribly la mode and chic in here. I’m having the lemon sole on a bed of marshmallows, with a side order of gob-stoppers.”
“How wonderfully, darlingly, marvellously, frightfully special! I shall have the roasted bonbon on liquorice bootlaces, with Bourneville chocolate. Isn’t this heavenly? Couldn’t you just fall down dead?”
“Couldn’t you just, darling? At any moment.”