a delicate weekend ahead for me.
i'm comforting britney, who's got to pay my mate kev federline (a resident here on my island) £10,000 a month to look after the kids.  that means she'll only have about £100k a month for therapy sessions, poor lamb.
anyway, she's just arrived, wanting a shoulder to cry on.
here she is ... hiding her grief.

britney

meanwhile, kev - who lives in a nice bungalow behind the abattoir - has invited me to a boys night out to celebrate his new wealth.  he reckons he'll have at least £50 a month left over every month, after he's handed over the pocket money.  so we're having a session of extreme tiddlywinks at the black pudding a'go'go tonight.

but what can i tell britney?
i need to keep her occupied, and i do not want any scenes or relapses.

might have to slip something in her drink.
though i suspect she's immune by now.

difficult.