It is with great sadness that I announce that the "my mummy says..." series has been cancelled with immediate effect (here and here).
The star of the show has become increasingly difficult to work with; refusing to take direction and insisting on complete script control. Before she would get out of bed to shoot the last video, her diva-dom included extortionate cash demands (equivalent to several shitty smurf ipad apps), her body weight in gobstoppers, and a caravan so she could rest her voice, between takes.
She is one bath full of blue smarties from becoming Mariah Carey. I have created a beast and can't afford or condone anymore of her imperious insistances. (A deluxe motorhome decorated with barbie vomit-pink sequins; separate dressing rooms for her entourage - ten seamonkeys, two rabbits, three legless action men and Bob the flying bear; a rainbow striped, winged unicorn to transport her to set; and, a special attendant to hand feed her cheese strings.)
So I'm afraid our working relationship can no longer continue. Don't even get me started on the bloody prima donna hens.
With a nod towards tradition, here are the out-takes. See what I mean? Trust me, don't work with children or animals. Ever.
gin-nurtered time waster.