Maureen has had twelve babies

Permasales International
P.O Box 2568
Milton Keynes, MK98 S39

14 January 2007

Dear Tom

We would like to offer you a position as sales executive for Permasales International. As a result of our rigorous selection procedure we feel you have the skills and qualifications needed to provide customer information about our extensive range of quality products to discerning home owners.

Your line manager Ms Chelsea Drake looks forward to meeting you on 21 January for your induction. Please note we ask our employees not to wear body studs or clothing of a sexually explicit nature and hoods are not allowed inside our premises.

All best wishes

Yours sincerely

pp. Rajad Patel, Sales Director, Permasales International


Message 4: 11.49am

Tom, tell me this isn’t happening. I’m not really standing outside a Docklands conference suite telling you how not to faint. Maureen will stop having babies eventually. It’s a law of nature especially if she’s already had ten, there can’t be that many left. Have a look to make sure. You know where. I should give her some water but I expect she’ll just feel like a rest. I’m crying. Over a guinea pig’s multiple birth. Give me a moment. I’ve just told some colleagues we’ve had some good news from the children’s Kumon tutor. It’s so primal, there must be some umbilical connection between women of all kinds everywhere. Oh, God, I’ve got six clients negotiating away without me while I’m doing fellow feeling with a single parent guinea pig. Do you think Mrs Willoughby knows what actually goes on in her classroom? And your job, I nearly forgot. It’s wonderful news. I always knew you could do it. I’m going to start again. I’ve got to go.

Fay’s Diary

15 January

Maureen has had twelve babies. Theo and I can’t decide whether to call them after the Arsenal Team or Girls Aloud. We want to sell them on eBay and go to Disneyland. Much better than my idea to sell all my Barbies to Year 1s and say they are only Bratzes that need feeding. I hope they don’t use this as an excuse to explain to us the facts of life. Excuse me, we haven’t been watching EastEnders for the last six years for nothing. You always know that if Dot Cotton is upset there must be something rude. Mrs Willoughby has shown us it with horrible Cabbage Patch Dolls anyway. I think they were lesbians.