CarlaBefore I start my rant, for those of you who noticed I was missing, I am sorry. The server had to changed for reasons I am not clever enough to understand. For those of you who didn’t, where the hell were you?

Anyway it’s not just servers that are driving me mad at the moment. Everywhere I go in the house all I hear are the husky ‘I want to steal your husband’ tones of a certain Miss Carla Bruni.

My husband has got the Bruni-bug bad. Ever since the French president started stepping out with her he has spent most of his time reading about her exploits, listening to her dreary music or watching clips of her on YouTube.

He lost his trainers the other day. “Maybe Carla Bruni has taken them,” he said, “in a desperate attempt to get me to come and claim them back from her.” Yeah, right.

Deranged he may be, but I fear he is not alone. For Miss Bruni is every man’s dream and every woman’s nightmare. This is a girl who believes in free love and has the looks and guile to get it wherever she wants.

If I were the Queen I would refuse to have her anywhere near me on the upcoming state visit, married or not. Married, as we know, means nothing to the capricious Carla. Unless the Queen wants to risk losing her husband and possibly her son and/or grandson she should keep her well away from the palace.

Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008