I Thought I Was Pregnant But It Was My Vegetable Bhuna Playing Up

I don't really "do" the Apocalypse, so I was upset to read that President Bush is thinking about bombing Iran. I hate it when world wars happen. The last time America bombed somebody I was travelling back from Japan and my plane got diverted to Delhi, where we were kept in the airport for 12 hours until the bombing stopped. It was terrible, we were given vouchers worth $12 and left to fend for ourselves. I'd never been to India before and I was quite excited, but the executive lounge was full and the air conditioning didn't work and the lighting was very harsh. My friend Seven and I tried to find the casino but got lost and ended up in a room where a man with a pink turban was doing tricks with a snake. He seemed very pleased to see us, but he said something in Indian which didn't sound very nice so we ran straight out again and went back to look at the itsy-bitsy teeny weeny not mock croc handbags in the duty-free luggage store.
That's when I discovered what Delhi belly meant. I felt something in my stomach which was different from the normal pains. I thought I might be pregnant (some chance!) and took four Nurofen Extra Strength and a piece of Wrigley's Extra to settle me down, but I still felt weird. It was like I'd swallowed a pigeon and it was trying to get out. The next thing I knew I was lying on a bed of nails being massaged by a man with skin the colour of Trailer Trash nail varnish. He didn't know much English and kept muttering, "You are Windsor Davies, you die now," which was a bit scary. Then Seven came back with a toffee apple and we went to look for a sushi bar and a copy of Italian Vogue in case we were on the cover and had forgotten.
It's not true that supermodels take drugs. Anyway, the heroin chic look isn't fashionable anymore, because too many people are trying it. I know it's cool to get exhausted and check into a clinic, but it's best to be sober when you do this, otherwise you miss out on all the gossip and stand less chance of winning at charades. The food is great, but they don't force you to eat anything, which saves time. My mime was Funny Face, which was great because I can look quite like Audrey Hepburn if I puff my cheeks out and whimper. Seven thought I was doing Buddha and confused everyone by shouting out her secret mantra. She was on the seventh level of consciousness before the duty therapist found the syringe.
That was when I met Pete.