Greetings and salutations my ravishing readers!

I am honoured and thrilled to be the travel correspondent for the global phenomenon that is emmaheaven.com. My name is Lady Perdita Fitzwilliam Tudor-Croft, Perdy to friends, Ditsy D to family and Dirty Dita to my unsavoury exes, but you can all call me Lady P.

My darling ravishing readers, one is taking some well deserved R&R after *the* most successful event one has ever organised, or ever attended for that matter! The (sch)long-awaited #Dickies...

Considering the um, ahem, stiff competition they’re up against, that’s no mean feat...the BAFTAs, National Television Awards, The BRIT Awards, and even the odd Oscars on occasion (which were quite the borefest if one is being totally honest).

Really, those luvvies do love to blather on about their pet projects and ‘issues’, which even the most UNcynical of us know is usually a shameless PR attempt to boost their ‘likeability. Surely it goes without saying that when one is so blessed financially etc, that one ‘gives back’ or ‘pays it forward’. Self praise, grandstanding and boastfulness really are rather vulgar, don’t you think?!

Anyhow, that kind of ‘political hot potato’ chit chat was verboten at my event, and one was enforcing a strict ‘thank you speech clause’ whereby they could not speak for more than 90 seconds; there was to be no gushing, sentimental or tearful speeches a la Paltrow, and absolutely under no circumstances would they hijack the Dickies platform to air their political beliefs. I’m not having their opinions forced down anyone’s throat, nor anything else for that matter!! The only time a politician's name could be mentioned was if they were a nominee in the ‘Biggest Dick’ category.

Anyhow, I uncharacteristically digress…

Back to my beloved Dickies ceremony, and oh what a triumph it was! The red carpet was a walkway for the famous, infamous, and the elite of the UK, plus a smattering of unwoke Hollywood stars - gosh it’s so hard to find one nowadays.

Obviously, for confidentiality reasons - and being the absolute soul of discretion - one isn’t able to publish any photographs due to the delicate nature of these awards, and being alive to the sensibilities of the not-so-confident and not-so fame-hungry gents who have a visceral and almost allergic reaction when it comes to the press and paparazzi.

One has also upheld the vow - i.e. a legally-binding requirement - of not mentioning any names, as have the guests - we had to sign NDAs (non-disclosure agreements) all carefully prepared by Daddy’s lawyers. They advised, nay implored, that one could create quite the $hit storm if these measures were not in place. So my darling readers, please forgive me for being even more discreet than usual.

So let one set the scene: A luxurious marquee, festooned with a myriad of lights, decadent floral displays and opulent ice sculptures - including the aforementioned ‘to scale’ ice luge. Daddy has been extremely and unusually generous allowing me carte blanche when it came to budget, however, one does feel that he may ‘flip his wig’ and have a change of heart when the bills finally roll in.

In fact, one expects the word ‘bloody’ to feature so heavily in his subsequent rants that - being the genius that I am - I have arranged to visit cousin Pierre with a quick escape to the chateau. I’ll leave Mummy to bring out the swear box so she can punish Daddy where it hurts him the most...

Anyway, back to the Dickies. The orchestra played a spectacular range of music and didn’t we know it?! Daddy was telling anyone who’d listen that ‘there’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle’, as he fiddled with his cummerband. BTW, that’s not a euphemism. Much…

The guests feasted on a delicious meal prepared by an extremely famous, irate and foul -mouthed and -tempered chef; with so many chefs to choose from, who could it possibly be? One’s lips are sealed. Although I can reveal that their chorizo and meatballs combo went down a storm, which pretty much set the tone for the rest of the evening and the afterparty which lasted ‘til dawn...Lorks, the stamina of some guests! Tho you’d never know it to look at them...

Enough digressing - I really must try sticking to the point more often. So to speak...

The awards ceremony itself went like clockwork. Yes. That’s right. I said cLock you mucky lot!

Thankfully one had the good sense to hire a Master of Ceremonies; fortunately he was available, although it’s highly unlikely he’s going to be hosting the Golden Globes or any other major awards ceremony anytime soon. Not because of lockdowns, but his acerbic ‘putdowns! Ah well, their loss is definitely our gain.

It really is quite an achievement to offend just about everybody in the audience, with so many having a sense of humour bypass. Or as Daddy so eloquently put it “he’s well and truly pi$$ed on HIS chips and all over THEIR cornflakes!”.

One must give him credit, as his opening speech was nothing short of spectacular - he must have spent all night in the office conjuring up that one! He mercilessly teased everyone - without exception, including little ol’ moi - and his putdowns raised more than a few perfectly-plucked eyebrows, challenging the most Botoxed of foreheads; but on the whole, he injected just the right amount of humour and phallus-related wit into what was quite possibly the quirkiest and most intriguing awards’ ceremony ever!

I have to say that one has never seen quite so many men, so proud and so quick to leap onto the stage to receive their award; this was the perfect opportunity to wax lyrical about their impressive appendage, how they had started life together, grown up together, and how it had served them (and their lovers!) so well, blah, blah, blah. #Yawn...

Quite a few were limbering up and prepared to show off the ‘family jewels’, however, such bravado soon limped away when the talk of lawsuits reared its ugly head...

As soon as all the awards had been presented to the well-endowed recipients, it was time to let one's hair down, kick off the Louboutins and party. And party I did. It was so wonderful to get up close and personal with the opposite sex once more.

Oh how I have missed flirting and all the bumping and grinding; I just about remembered how to be Dita, the seductive tease. It really brought (back)out the naughty in me, but as always, when I left the dancefloor I had more dates than a diary and calendar factory!

So my darling readers, it’s safe to say that I and the Dickies are both a roaring success and even though it was such a controversial, ‘taboo’ topic to create awards for, to quote the late, great Kenny Everett, “it was all done in the best possible taste”.

Well ok. Maybe not the bit towards the end; one hadn’t fully thought through how a melting ice luge phallus would look, or ‘perform’ after several hours in a febrile marquee. Suffice to say, many phones had to be wiped of ANY photos after the clock struck midnight. Inhibitions lowered faster than the mood lighting. Multiple reputations were at risk. Thank heavens we had competent first-aiders to hand, with a steady supply of neck braces for the walking wounded...

With countless requests for this to become an annual event, one felt it was time to take a little break to restore the batteries, and to come back even bigger and better. So ‘that’ my darlings is exactly what one is doing right now. I bid you adieu and look forward to reacquainting with you next month, all refreshed and raring to go again. I wonder what we will get up to next? So to speak...

Toodle pip,

xx

***Note to Team Heaven HQ***

Darling gals ~ look away now if easily offended, but here are words I never thought I’d hear uttered at a prestigious event. And nearly all of them concerned the fabulous David/Adonis ice luge:

“Gosh. This is the first time I’ve ever swallowed ANYthing from one of those”

“That tastes far better than anything else I’ve ever slurped from there”

“Do they come in different sizes, colours and flavours?” [Inaudible response followed by a loud slap] “What the hell else did you think I was talking about?!”

“I’ve never seen one droop OR drip quite so slowly before - I can’t look away - I’m mesmerised”

And these are the few I CAN repeat without fear of getting sued!

Thanks for all your help and support darlings. You’ve been absolute angels. Mwah and big licks. Licks. I said LICKS!! xoxo