One of the things I love about Lisa is her unfailing ability to hone in on the most important aspect of any blog post. I could write a detailed account of how my gas oven blew up, destroying half my flat, killing my neighbour, and severing both my legs as I sat watching Trisha one morning, and she'd ask me who was on Trisha.

And so it was that I found myself in Manningtree Post Office yesterday afternoon, attempting to send a screenplay to America whilst being badgered by text messages demanding further details on my relationship with Princess Diana.

So I feel I should set the record straight. Whilst I'm sure it's true that for many years Princess Di considered me something of a friend, a confidant, and in all probability her rock, in reality our relationship was no more than a brief affair back in the spring of 1981.

She and Charles had announced that they would marry on July 29th, which just so happened to be my 8th birthday, a fact of such significance that I thought they should know. So I wrote to Diana and told her. I was fully expecting a wedding invite by return of post, but sadly all I got was this...



I've since discovered that other people also have their birthday on July 29th, and it wasn't quite the billion to one coincidence I thought it was when I was 7. But even so, I like to think that Diana's guilt over her failure to invite me to the wedding was in some way responsible for her later episodes of bulimia.

Or to put it another way, I made her sick.

So that's cleared that one up. The stage is now free for Lisa to tell us about the letter she wrote to the Jackie problem page.