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.

Greetings my darlings, and oh what a month it’s been!!

One had rather hoped that after the Royal Coronation and parties galore that one’s diary would become a little freer so that one would have a tad more downtime to contemplate that all-important, all-consuming question: ‘where would I be spending my summer vacation?’

Anyhow, the prospect of any downtime has been completely blown out of the water thanks to all the attention my last column created! Maria and I have been fielding offers from media outlets all around the world, in the hope that they could snare me to become their new Royal Correspondent what with one’s inside knowledge and ‘access all areas’ so to speak...

Well one does have friends - and frenemies for that matter, with scores to settle of their own - in some very high places. Oh, and did I not mention that one also has a dossier chock-a-block of indiscretions and shenanigans, backed up with photographic/video evidence which could quite literally bring them to their knees should one wish to pursue that avenue, if the juicy, salacious gossip ever dries up! Multiple copies are stored in several, highly-secure locations, so don’t even think about it!

And whilst we’re on the subject of ‘evidence’, did anyone clock the ginger whinger’s court appearance last week? Some of us are savvy enough to shore up our evidence before we start throwing our weight around, rather than feeble attempts to throw around flimsy statements, to see what sticks! Schoolboy error there dear chap. I for one am hugely relieved that my unrequited longings have been fully extinguished. I dodged quite a bullet there!
Anyhoo, I digress…

Even though there were some very lucrative offers, especially from Sly News, the British Bashing Corporation, along with a certain billionaire who has taken over the Twitterverse, one has pledged their allegiance to the wonderful woman who took a punt on little ol’ moi and gave me my first shot at the big time - the one and only Emma Heaven.

I, Lady P, will not succumb to just any old offers - big or small - I will not be dazzled by lots of zeros, private planes, an unlimited wardrobe budget, or any other ‘inducements’, because at this wonderful magazine, one is given carte blanche to write about whatever tickles my fancy or grinds my gears, so to speak...

Now who can honestly say they have that much freedom of speech and in today’s media world? As Daddy always says, “know which side your bread is buttered Dita”, yes well, thank you for that little titbit of life advice there Daddy, I am well aware of that, tho I’m more of a buttery brioche kind of gal, dontcha know, and those fabulous gals at EH HQ allow me to top that bread and butter with any topping that I desire! Sweet or salty…#NudgeNudge

Another deciding factor to NOT be seduced by the dark side has been the ringside seat to watch the downfall of so many mainstream media outlets. I mean come on. Who’d want to work in that kind of an environment, in this day and age?!? There’s such an onslaught of scandals rocking the news lately that would even make one’s posse of gal pals blush - and let me tell you, those gals are no strangers to scandal! Not that you’d be aware of any scandals, as they’re all Trust Fund/Nepo Kids with bank balances bigger than their brains, which isn’t difficult…not to mention the highly-paid ‘family’ lawyers on standby, 24/7, ready to whip up an NDA or a super injunction in a heartbeat.

So there you have it my darling readers. Despite the terribly flattering flurry of offers from the great and the not so good, one is very much here to stay, to entertain you with my (hopefully) amusing anecdotes, agonies and anything else which pops into one’s mind.

I can also guarantee that I will most definitely not be joining a certain blonde on the sofa - the vibe was all so terribly ‘U ok hun?!’ if you ask me - even tho her silver fox has left under a cloud of suspicion - or maybe it was a strawberry-flavoured vape cloud?! Did you see how much he vaped during his interview?!? And I couldn’t possibly comment on any rumours that their nicknames amongst the crew were ‘The Vaper and The Vapid’...

However, the recent fallout now makes some sense of how he nearly got whiplash at the industry awards last year, when one of the TV chefs innocently asked him if he’d ‘ever done a runner’ after lamenting how diners who ‘scoffed and offed’ - aka dine and dash - were impacting his profits...

Salacious gossip aside - that’s soooo not my style - it’s a complete mystery as to how on earth that pair ever survived #QueueGate’ at the Queen’s lying-in-state!

Queue-jumping must be the most terribly un-British thing to do. Queuing is what we’re famous for, and one of the few things we still excel at. Such queue-contempt and anarchy is a slippery slope I tell you! We’re not bloody savages!!

Any self-respecting Brit knows that the first (unwritten) rule of ‘Queue Club’: is You see people standing in a line, politely ask ‘is this the queue?’, then stand behind them to patiently await your turn. Simple!

Sometimes you won’t even know what you’re queueing up for, which makes it all the more of a fascinating pastime. Lorks, I have soooo many naughty tales I could tell you about joining queues without knowing what I was waiting for, until one reached the very front! And one is hardly going to turn away after investing so much time in the queue, and maybe making a few new friends while one waits. The element of surprise just adds an extra frisson. However, that is gossip fodder for another day/another column!

Ooops, I digress. How unlike me…

I would also like to put it on the record here that, after much speculation and consideration, I will not be jetting off to a certain American Foxy News channel to replace a certain person who has flown to another nest, where he can Tweet loudly and freely about anything he so desires. Tempting as it is to have the word ‘Fox’ so closely aligned with my name/brand, you know what they say my darlings? ‘Self-praise is no recommendation’; and I daren’t tell you what rhyming word Daddy uses to describe that news channel. This is a respectable column I’ll have you know…

Whilst diplomatically refraining from sending them a ‘Foxtrot Oscar’ to their generous offer, I took the liberty to let them know how much I prized the independence and freedom afforded to me by this glorious magazine, and we probably wouldn’t be a good fit.

Only time will tell if one does overstep the mark by penning something so outrageous that one is either sent to the naughty step indefinitely by the big boss lady herself, OR, Daddy’s lawyers have me sent to the Tower, where it will be a case of - ‘orf with her head!!!’

Until next month my darlings, and thank you all so much for your continued indulgence of my meandering ramblings!

Mwah.

*** Notes to Team Heaven ***

Darling guys and gals ~ one has been rather inspired by the Hotties playlists in recent editions ~ I was wondering if you think there’d be an appetite, so to speak, for me to occasionally share a the odd soundtrack or two that I listen to, to get one’s creative juices pumping whilst writing my monthly memoirs?! What do you think?

Unsurprisingly, my tastes are rather eclectic, and one’s choices usually have some underlying significance. Music can be so evocative don’t you think?! Call it the soundtrack to one’s life if you will…