The staff here at Hatman Mansions have brought to my attention a report that British actress and Austin Powers stunner Elizabeth Hurley is on the lookout for a new child to add to her meagre sprog-count of one son (Damian, 8).
I think I can help. In fact, sod that, I know I can help. I want to.
Here is why. Given that Liz is now 44 and her bio-clock is making a tick-tock like an African elephant crashing through a never-ending series of drystone walls, I wish to remove the possibility that the broody babe may casually pick up the latest catalogue of “African Orphans Seeking A Comfy Upbringing In A Filthy Rich Actress’s Country Pile” in her dentist’s waiting-room and go off on a shopping spree.
I am further alarmed by the fact, should OK! magazine be in the business of reporting facts, that her alleged hubby, allegedly one Arun Nayar is allegedly shooting alleged blanks. According to the OK! story, La Hurley told Zest, allegedly another magazine: “We haven’t had any luck so far. Arun would love another one. Damian does not want another one. And I think it would be great if one came along.”
Very worrying. One can only extrapolate from this sensational bit of information that, if he is any kind of man at all, Nayar and our very agreeably constructed former Austin Powers stunner have been rumpy-pumpying around the house 24/7. It’s just as well little Damian has any number of Playstations and X-Boxes to distract him from interrupting and possibly derailing Mum’s efforts to conceive.
Still the couple’s marriage remains as barren as the dustbowl 400km north-east of Kuruman. But all is not lost. I can certainly help. But let us first hit “Refresh” on the anatomical assets of Ms Hurley…
Yes, I’m most certainly up for this. I’m willing to – how do I phrase this? – um, stud myself out in order for Damian to have somebody to whom he can hand down last month’s computer games. I think Liz and I (and I’m sure her hubby is a broadminded and evolved kind of oke) can tick all the boxes here.
1. Liz and Arun get the second child they so badly want.
2. I get the first child I so badly want.
3. With me being African and all, they get the African (well, half-African) designer child that is so trendy in the Western world right now. And they don’t even have to stump up the cash to build any schools in Kenya in exchange for that privilege.
4. They can save all that dosh to cough up for an English public school education and all the trimmings which come with privilege over in Old Blighty and I, as a penniless blogger, won’t have to spend anything. Apart from a night with Liz at The Ritz (on Arun’s account).
5. Our sprog, when old enough, can spend his (you don’t think my highly butch chromosomes will allow for anything other than a boy, do you?) school holidays chasing dangerous wildlife around barefoot in the South African bush near Hatman Mansions and thus enjoy a healthy respite from all that time Britons spend indoors cocooned from their horrible weather.
6. Due to my having a South African passport, said sprog can look forward to playing fly-half for a world champion rugby team as opposed to mincing around rather pointlessly in mud and slush for the bunch of wusses the English like to pass off as an international rugby team.
There. I could go on and on but I think that’s enough boxes ticked for Liz to sit bolt upright and see the value in my very decent proposal.
I shall now sit back on my sunkissed verandah and wait for her breathlessly written e-mail to plop into my inbox. Crikey, what a ripper of an idea!