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CHERIE PREGNANT SHOCK!! By our Pregnancy Reporter, Lorena Bobbitt 19 November 1999 In a startling new revelation, Cherie Blair, wife of the British PM and erstwhile editor and style-guru for a whole generation, confessed that no, she wasn't getting fat, and yes, she was up the spout. Again. The Sun: So what about the Conception? How and when did it happen? "Darlings, there was nothing Immaculate about it," Our Lady
of Downing Street declared to a Sipping from a glass of Aqua Libra Herbal Drink with Folic Acid, Mrs Blair looked radiant in a white and flimsy Gaultier gown. "Nothing witchy about her these days!" Guardian reporter Julie Burchill hissed in my left ear. "And hasn't she just got one over on Portillo's wife! I hear that Tory cow's desperate to get one in the oven as quick as possible - just to prove Mikeybabe can still cut the mustard fanny-wise. But so far, nothin doin." Miss Burchill passed out then, hitting the floor rather loudly and causing something of a diversion. I could swear there was a hint of talcum under her nose. And what about names for the new-born? Any ideas there?
But if it's a girl? "Same problem. Glenda too sixties, Harriet too prissy, Mo too dreadful for words (I mean...would you?). We did think briefly of Anne, very classy, but then we remembered that fat Tory motormouth, the dead ringer for Dawn French, and that had to go too. We'll come up with something, though. Maybe Geri or Denise van. Ultra trendy, those chicks, doncha think?" The press conference stopped then, abruptly, as Mrs Blair announced that "she
could feel the This child will, God willing, be the first baby born to a serving Prime Minister for 150 years, thus proving that fucking up a country is one thing, but...
More stories and pictures on Pages 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 10, 11 and 13. What do YOU think about the Blairs' happy news? Phone The Sun NOW on 0171 555 1234 and HAVE YOUR SAY!!
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Copyright magnificat 1997 - 2001 |
packed and hushed press-gallery. "Just
the usual sloppy mess." The flicker of a frown crossed her smooth and
pampered, although as yet unlifted face. "I must say Tony comes far too
quickly these days," she continued. "Sometimes as soon as his
poker hits the coals, if you know what I mean. She sighed, wistfully then,
glancing down at the First Fanny. "Must be the stress. Maybe we should try
that viagara. Although I hear from Gordon Brown that it's 'just a waste of time,
bonnie wee lassie. Either it's in ye, or it isnae'."
"Well, we've been round the Cabinet - twice, but nothing sprang to
mind," Cherie explained. "John too fat, Peter too camp, Jack
too boring, Gordon too grotesque." 
baby moving, and
anyway, it was time for 30 minutes of Mozart. Never too soon to start," she
declared, smiling as she swept out of the room with what looked exactly like a Pampers
contract in her hand.