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Paria Tomkin-Palmerson's Diary |
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| There's only one place to rich people at this
time of the year, and that's Klosters. I'm sure poor people would love it here
too, but oddly enough you never see any, you just see rich people, it,s always
puzzled me. But then the behaviour of poor people has always been a mystery to
me. I mean I've never really understood why they feel they have to deprive
themselves of things, haven't they ever heard of Goldcard? |
| I love snow! It is my absolute second favourite
white substance - you'll have to guess what my favourite is - but unfortunately
there was very little of it about when I first arrived here. (Snow, that is,
naturally there was absolutely stacks of the other stuff to be had). But my
name wouldn't be Paria Tomkin-Palmerson if I were to let a shortage of snow on
the piste interfere with my hols, so I simply rang Daddy and had him get one of
his private jets to fly over and drop five tons of tenners onto the slopes. It
was almost as good as snow to ski on, and added just that touch of decadence.
Super. Toby Beirut suggested that after we'd finished skiing on it we could
maybe spend it in the bars but I told him not to be silly, it would be
wet. |
| I just can't stop people throwing parties for
me (I don't try very hard!), and Klosters this year was no different.It was
Toby Beirut's idea, a much better one than spending wet tenners! There was
simply gallons of champers and what I think was food, but I can't be sure
because I never touch the stuff, I never have, it always takes up too much time
consuming it when one could be partying, so for nourishment I just couple
myself up to an intravenous drip while I'm asleep. (Joke - what's an
intravenous drip? Being fed by Hugh Grant!) Johnny Depp was there. I wanted to
ask him something which has always puzzled me - how was Edward Scissorhands
supposed to have a wee without cutting his willie off - but I didn't ask him in
case he thought I was an intellectual, thinking about things like
that. |
| On the second day I was there we held our
traditional downhill ski race. My best friend Prince Charles had entered this
year but sadly Prince Edward had to pull out. Charles said that Edward wouldn't
be too disappointed at missing it as he's been going downhill for years. Such a
joker, Charles, he'll do anything for a laugh. Well you only have to look at
Camilla. |
| I've always thought it stands to sense that
rich people have larger brains than your average man in the poo. It's evolution
I suppose. Rich people need bigger brains because we have more things to
remember, like the dates of the Milan and Paris shows, and where Harrods is.
The point of this is that on the third day I was there the sun came out and I
think it affected my brain because I went an entire day without buying
anything! This has never happened in my life before. Even when I was a baby I
used to send Nanny out every day for a bottle of Perrier Gripe Water or
whatever, and even the time I was in a coma after falling off Henry
Dent-Brocklehurst I managed to come out of it for a few minutes every day to
send for a few nick nacks from Harvey Nicks. I came home immediately of course,
and checked in to the Queen Alex quicker than you can say Cartier, as it was
quite obvious that the old Tomkin-Palmerson noggin would have to have a
thorough going over by one of Daddy's ocean-going team of psychiatrists. Anyway
two days later they said there hadn't been any permanent damage, pronounced me
perfectly sane and told me the bill would be £50,000, so they myust be
right, because if I wasn't perfectly sane I might have jibbed at the cost.
Gosh, I've just realised, I would make a good psychiatrist! But if I was busy
exploring inside people's heads I might not have time for exploring inside
Biba, so that's out. |
| On Friday, while having drinks with my chum
Becky Tamarind - we'd got together to try to solve the age-old problem of
people not being able to tell that one is the driver of a current year
registration car if one has personalised number plates - when we got into a
discussion about what exactly is a snob. I'm not one of course. I regularly
talk to the lower classes. Well I have to, otherwise they wouldn't know how I
wanted them to cut my hair or where I wanted to go in their taxi, would they.
Anyway I've tried not talking to taxi drivers and just pointing in the
direction I want to go but I ended up at John o' Groats with a very large bill
so that's out. Actually I had a chat with a taxi driver the other day, about
the famous people he'd had in his taxi. He said he'd had six film stars. I said
"So have I". He seemed to look at me with a new respect after I'd told him
that. Well in a different way,certainly. |
