May 22, 1971
I am sad today. I have lost my Best Buddy. To be honest, I am amazed he has hung on so long, but there is a limit to how much nutrition you can glean from Southern Comfort, so it was inevitable. I am just glad that he played his last chord before the papers came out today with news that our latest release has been banned by everyone and has bombed. Strange really, but Fairy Dust was a sweet little number with an autobiographical twist, and it is unfortunate that dear old auntie has taken it upon herself to completely misunderstand what the song is all about, namely, Me! Oh, and Fairy Dust, of course.
Before the end we had a little surprise when my mother had a visit from a certain pantomime dame who minced into the living room, took one look at Aladdin sitting in his indoor tank and gave the dear old frog a great big, tongue flapping snog! Well, how the hell was I to know my brother was gay? One huge flash of light later and the old thesp found a gorgeous young man sitting in his arms licking his face. Needless to say, his heart couldn’t handle it and he expired there and then in my mother’s parlour with a delightful, raunchy grin spread right to his ears. Still, we got my brother back, so that was okay then.
Meanwhile, I am having to reconcile myself to life without Best Buddy and without my record contract either, since it appears that the two were rather intimately entwined. Well, Christmas is not that far away, and I need a little time to brush down the fairy godmother outfit.
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