'You have to come. It'll be fun honestly.'

This is surreal. Peter, the only Northern man I know with a sense of humour, wants me to go to a cocktail party at the House of Lords. I don't do cocktail parties, I didn't think Peter did cocktail parties; I haven't got anything to wear to cocktail parties. Amend. I haven't got anything to wear that isn't bleach batik. I certainly don't do Lords; I don't even approve of the concept of Lords. I do flowers and falling into Chinese restaurants.

'Peter this is me remember? This is the woman who pole dances in Chinese restaurants on New Year's Eve; you even have the photographs to prove it. Don't smirk down the phone like that at me you ba****d! You promised to give me the b****y negatives and I still haven't had them. I would be a disaster at the House of Lords. You would be barred and Penelope would never speak to me again, or you for that matter!'

He is not going to give up. I know he's not going to give up. Perhaps I should just hang up.

Oh go on... we'll have a shriek. There will be six of us and we'll all get really p****d and you can be as rude as you like to everybody. They take us on a tour of the Lords and the Commons as well you know a private tour just for us.'

A tour of the Commons eh? OK he's good he knows how to lay the trap. I suppose it could be fun. Hold on what did he say, six of us? Six is an even number.

'Who's going?'

'Penny and I, Graham and Julia and you.'

OK Penny and Peter, old friends that's fine. Graham and Julia, best friends and business partners, that's cool (I really must stop using youth language). One two three four and me... five.

'That's five - I can count Peter. You said six - who is number six?'

'Oh it's just Greg you remember Greg? You met him at the barbecue last year.'

'That'll be partner-less Greg with the teenage daughter I take it?'

'That's right. Oh yes, I suppose he is on his own I honestly hadn't thought of that.'

'Liar!'

Why does everyone feel they have to find me a new partner? I don't want a new partner. I wouldn't mind my old one back but fat chance of that. Greg eh? My escort for the night, he's quite harmless I suppose and he wouldn't dare to make a pass he'd be far too frightened. Perhaps there really isn't an ulterior motive; I mean Greg isn't even remotely fanciable. Come to think of it no one is fanciable at the moment... bizarre.

'I can do solo you know Peter.'

'Oh for goodness sake! It's only to make up the numbers! Penny has six tickets. We are not trying to set you up. Please say you'll come.'

'I can get really really p****d and behave appallingly?'

'Yes. You can even flash yer bum over the parapet if you want!'

'I'll think about it'.

'Tour of the House on Commons?'

'OK! OK! I'll come. Good bye.'

I must be mad.

Anyone would think I was eighteen and about to embark on my first season as a debutante. Even the Tweedles are excited about the impending society sortie. So excited that work is patently not on today's agenda.

Clarissa you are supposed to cut the flowers at a sharp angle! How the h**l can they be expected to drink if they have no mouth to drink out of?' If you cut them at a b****y right angle they will stick to the bottom of the bucket! Have you ever tried breathing through cello tape? Would you like to?'

What a delightful thought. Clarissa bound in cello tape, eyes silently mouthing 'please release me'. I could leave her like that all day. We could have a peaceful Saturday. No - someone would sue.

It giggles as only Clarissa can. A delinquent sort of 'ho ho ho' Santa's grotto giggle. The child is truly worrying.

'I'm sorry but you look so nice in that dress. I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress.'

I knew this was a mistake. No one has seen me in a dress you stupid child, I haven't worn a dress in over thirty years and I don't employ you to compliment me, you are here under sufferance... not strictly accurate, you are here, I am suffering.

'Just cut the flowers OK? I'll finish the bouquet.'

'Don't you DARE touch any flowers without gloves on! You'll ruin your nails!'

I don't think I've ever heard the gentle Amy shout before, but then fashion and beauty are her bag and I suppose she did treat me to the manicure.

'Amy the bouquet has to be finished, and Clarissa is barely capable of speech today let alone floristry skills. Isn't it enough that you forced me to endure three hours of foul play in the beauty parlour? I cannot tie a b****y bow with gloves on? I'll be careful OK?'

Three hours in a beauty parlour. Face pummelled by a woman blessed with the soul and brutality of a pugilist, nails painted with four coats of assorted shades of varnish just so they can look like - nails. French polishing they call it - b******s it's touch up Tipex more like. It would have taken me ten minutes to achieve precisely the same result and I could have stayed in the office and done the invoices at the same time. Beauty parlours? What a complete and utter waste of time. How sane women can tolerate such mind numbing boredom on a regular basis beggar's belief.

I am the Christmas turkey.

I have a frock that cost more than six months broadband subscription, strappy sandals of the blister bequeathing variety, hair that is an even shade of 'Bergen' blond, and a thong. How I let Angela talk me into the thong I shall never know.

'You have to have new underwear. You can't wear a dress that moulds itself to your body and have VPL.'

'You haven't even seen my dress so how do you know it moulds? And what in G*d's name is VPL?'

'Oh dear you have had a very sheltered life. Visible panty line, you'll have to wear a thong.'

'I can assure you no one is getting close to my underwear and I thought thongs were things that over-sexed Italian Gods wore on the beach, I'll look b***dy ridiculous in one of those.'

Oh no here they come, Weight Watchers Inc. - The three fat ladies. It's Inspection time. I have to leave in five minutes girls.

'Why are you standing there with your mouths open? Do I look that awful? And you didn't tell me that the b****y thong would garrotte my bum cheeks!'

I'm not going. I knew this was a bad idea. I can take the dress back. Don't think an 'only worn once' thong would go down too well but perhaps I can use it as a hair scrunchie, it's about the same size. Say something for G*d's sake! Oh no I must look terrible, Angela's going to cry.

'Bonjour mes Amies. Cinderella's carriage 'ave arrivee!'

Why is Patrick here and what is he talking about what carriage? His French is truly appalling.

'What are you doing here? I have to be at the station in five minutes or I'll miss the b****y train.'

'Grateful as ever you old witch! Sometimes I don't know why I bother. I've borrowed a roller. I'm driving you to London. You so can't do trains you get lost on platforms. Mmmm not bad though you scrub up quite well.'

That's it! A month's salary, three hours of torture, an arse that feels as if it's got an arrow stuck up it and what do I get? "You Scrub up quite well".'

Why did I bother?

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