Fag Hag Diary

If you see this man...


The Fag Hag got one of those phone calls the other night that every child wants from a parent. One of those special moments that will be passed down like Hep C from generation to generation…

‘Darling, ‘ said my mother, excitedly. ‘Do remember to watch BBC1 tonight.’ Why, pray tell? Was Paxo planning on doing Newsnight sans pants? No, that’s BBC2. Or was some long lost enemy of hers about to be written out of a soap in a nasty mobility scooter pile-up? Or perhaps they were showing Judy at Carnegie Hall on a loop all night!

Well, as is so often the case, the truth turned out to be somewhat less fandabidozi. Turned out an old acquaintance of hers she hadn’t seen since Ptolemy’s last wine and cheese gathering was on telly. ‘What show then, mum?’ ‘Oh Crimewatch, darling, ‘ she answered in a sing-song voice.

And people wonder why my autobiography’s working title is ‘Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves’.

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