Associated Press

‘Ello. I’m a bit sad today. No one’s talking about my Topshop line anymore — maybe they realized it’s crap and looks like shit on all those fatty size-fours — and my Petey’s been good and staying home strumming his guitar and singing with me and Lila Grace all night instead of getting pissed and cracking his head open and getting in all the tabloids.

No, instead of talking about the trends I’m setting or my devotion to my Petey, all the fashion blogs are talking about how I’ve been replaced. And by some stupid little twit.

All I’ve been hearing about this week is how poor Keira Knightley can’t gain weight. How she wants tits. How she wishes she could be curvy.

SHUT UP!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!

You’re making the rest of us look bad. You’d be nothing without me. People would think you were a malnourished refugee if not for me. I put waifs on the map. I had a baby and kept wearing skinny jeans and minidresses. And then, when I got busted for coke, no one really cared. They pretended to be angry, but I went to rehab and got all my campaigns back. People get it, people understand.

And then this girl comes out complaining about it?! That’s no way to treat your elders.

This bird needs a fag or a shag.

Toodles!
Kate