Has he seen it then? Has he made a comment?
Has he seen it then? Has he made a comment?I'm guessing Piers had a little titter to himself when he saw nitty in the nuddy
They're bringing in a rat catcher? They'll need a big trap for Mark.So bad enough having mice and mice droppings all over their house they now have rats. Manky quite happy to let everyone know they've had the rat catcher in, not surprised with all the food that's dropped on the floor and left and the way they go off to bed and leave food everywhere. The ratcatcher has got a job on his hands in that filthy fleapit.
Exciting news, Tattlers. There is going to be a secondbestsellingBook from Nitty and Nutty...and I havestolenmanaged to obtain the opening chapter from it.
The Kindness of Nitty Swadderley Off The Telly
A Work of Fiction
Chapter One - Morning Has Broken
It was a Thursday morning and Nitty was standing in her beautifully-appointed kitchen that was so familiar to readers of Hello! magazine. She was delicately finishing off a bowl of last night’s Spaghetti a la Strawberry Cheesecake that somehow had not been eaten by her grateful, perfect family who loved her so very much.
While the early rays of sun haloed Nitty’s beautifully-tousled mane, her face betrayed a niggling concern that had been growing within her.
Was it that her Loose Women colleague Saira Khan had implied on theratings-bustingaward-winningDaytime show that she was an irresponsible parent because she put no controls or limits on how her children could access social media? As if, she chuckled to herself in not remotely a geezer-ish way. She knew that her daughters were a model of fine parenting. Her eldest, NotAmy, was setting the music business alight from a park nearby with her catchy uplifting songs. Whereas her youngest, whose name escaped her momentarily, hadn’t woke up screaming after watching an 18+ horror movie for at least three weeks. Nitty smiled kindly to herself. Saira is just jealous of me, she concluded. Like so many others had been over the years. It was a price she had to pay and yet somehow she found it in her heart to forgive them. After all she was the Norwood Queen of Kindness.
It must be something else that was concerning her. She began to wander past the eighteenth gifted Ninja appliance, the cobwebs gentling wafting in her wake when the former and much-missed EastEnders actress felt something crunch under her rustic feet.
It was some cake crumbs that had hardened on the floor after weeks of somehow going unnoticed. Standards were slipping she thought. I’ll give that lazy good-for-nothing sister, Dinner Sawalha, a piece of my mind for not cleaning my home properly. She thought of all the times she had very kindly made Dinner’s recipes incredibly popular by promoting them on her YouTube Reality Show and on Masterchef. What an ungrateful cow, she thought to herself, the innate kindness still oozing from every pore.
The crunch of the crispy crumbs underhoof added a new mystery. Where had these come from? They weren’t from one of her own beautiful cake creations. Not covered in olive oil and cumin for a start as every MasterChef winner would naturally include in their recipe. Nor were they squished on one side like the crumbs from the entirely unique Dangerously Sloping Lemonish Cake she had kindly gifted to her prescription-pills addled mother-in-law on her birthday.
And then she had it. It must have been from the cake that her publishers had sent round as part of the industry-shattering celebration for theirchart-toppingbestsellerpamphlet, Honey I Took The Kids To The Local Cinema. Nitty knew the cake wasn’t very good. The local cake maker had committed that basic cookery error of making it symmetrical but not everyone can be a MasterChef like me. She couldn’t help but pity the girl who delivered it. There was only one thing for it. She had to give her one of her very generous hugs while simultaneously taking a photo of it - social distancing be damned, this cake maker needs a spark of joy in her South London life.
Nitty thought about cleaning up the crumbs but couldn’t remember where the “dustpan and brush” were. Probably up in NotAmy’s room along with the eight tin openers she had taken up there to impress her friends.
As she wandered aimlessly past open drawer after open drawer, the niggling worry persisted. Had she keep that cinema ticket from last week’s trip to the Everyman Cinema? She would need that later to justify the grand she was deducting from her tax. Yes it was only £15.10 to get in but Nitty reckoned if she sold it in an auction of celebrity memorabilia one of the subs would have paid easily over a thousand pounds for it. So she in fact was being kind to all the taxers of the UK by only deducting a grand for it on her tax return. She rummaged in her coat pocket, which conveniently was on the floordrobe nearby. There it was. A little wine-stained and grubby and so was the ticket.
She felt the frustration rising. What was unnerving her so much? She had done everything a deeply kind person would do. She had updated her loyal following why the pregnancy suit for Manky that they hadn’t ordered hadn’t arrived yet. She had tweeted to Piers Morgan to be kind despite having slagged him off for weeks on the live vlog. She had booked several Ocado slots for the weeks ahead in case there was a second lockdown and she needed to help out those imaginary old people in her ghetto neighbourhood. She had even checked with her parents if her talentless younger sister the Spawn of Beelzebub was visiting any time soon so she could book another luxuxy tax-deductible hotel in Central London to kindly help the local economy.
Baffled, she wandered out onto the patio, stepping over the crisp packets, dead plants and spare stones from the path to nowhere. She tried to distract herself by planning her next attention-seeking, Readers-Wives style, body-confidence-raising nudie snaps and wondered what excuse she could use this time to justify her bestowing Mama’s Baps upon the nation this week.
Suddenly she felt a chill Norwood wind on her face. It would be winter soon. She felt her stomach sink and for once it wasn’t the weight of four MacDonalds plant-based Big Macs yielding to gravity. Our Queen of Kindness gulped in cold realisation.
It would be winter soon and, apart from a Covid second wave inexplicably as she had followed the government guidance pretty much to the letter, Winter would only bring one thing: Melanie Blake promoting her new book with a round of tell-all interviews. She gulped hard at the thought of the showbiz tales that Manky wouldn’t be able to delete. How could the Queen of Kindness keep hold of her crown?
Brilliant...chapter 2??Exciting news, Tattlers. There is going to be a secondbestsellingBook from Nitty and Nutty...and I havestolenmanaged to obtain the opening chapter from it.
The Kindness of Nitty Swadderley Off The Telly
A Work of Fiction
Chapter One - Morning Has Broken
It was a Thursday morning and Nitty was standing in her beautifully-appointed kitchen that was so familiar to readers of Hello! magazine. She was delicately finishing off a bowl of last night’s Spaghetti a la Strawberry Cheesecake that somehow had not been eaten by her grateful, perfect family who loved her so very much.
While the early rays of sun haloed Nitty’s beautifully-tousled mane, her face betrayed a niggling concern that had been growing within her.
Was it that her Loose Women colleague Saira Khan had implied on theratings-bustingaward-winningDaytime show that she was an irresponsible parent because she put no controls or limits on how her children could access social media? As if, she chuckled to herself in not remotely a geezer-ish way. She knew that her daughters were a model of fine parenting. Her eldest, NotAmy, was setting the music business alight from a park nearby with her catchy uplifting songs. Whereas her youngest, whose name escaped her momentarily, hadn’t woke up screaming after watching an 18+ horror movie for at least three weeks. Nitty smiled kindly to herself. Saira is just jealous of me, she concluded. Like so many others had been over the years. It was a price she had to pay and yet somehow she found it in her heart to forgive them. After all she was the Norwood Queen of Kindness.
It must be something else that was concerning her. She began to wander past the eighteenth gifted Ninja appliance, the cobwebs gentling wafting in her wake when the former and much-missed EastEnders actress felt something crunch under her rustic feet.
It was some cake crumbs that had hardened on the floor after weeks of somehow going unnoticed. Standards were slipping she thought. I’ll give that lazy good-for-nothing sister, Dinner Sawalha, a piece of my mind for not cleaning my home properly. She thought of all the times she had very kindly made Dinner’s recipes incredibly popular by promoting them on her YouTube Reality Show and on Masterchef. What an ungrateful cow, she thought to herself, the innate kindness still oozing from every pore.
The crunch of the crispy crumbs underhoof added a new mystery. Where had these come from? They weren’t from one of her own beautiful cake creations. Not covered in olive oil and cumin for a start as every MasterChef winner would naturally include in their recipe. Nor were they squished on one side like the crumbs from the entirely unique Dangerously Sloping Lemonish Cake she had kindly gifted to her prescription-pills addled mother-in-law on her birthday.
And then she had it. It must have been from the cake that her publishers had sent round as part of the industry-shattering celebration for theirchart-toppingbestsellerpamphlet, Honey I Took The Kids To The Local Cinema. Nitty knew the cake wasn’t very good. The local cake maker had committed that basic cookery error of making it symmetrical but not everyone can be a MasterChef like me. She couldn’t help but pity the girl who delivered it. There was only one thing for it. She had to give her one of her very generous hugs while simultaneously taking a photo of it - social distancing be damned, this cake maker needs a spark of joy in her South London life.
Nitty thought about cleaning up the crumbs but couldn’t remember where the “dustpan and brush” were. Probably up in NotAmy’s room along with the eight tin openers she had taken up there to impress her friends.
As she wandered aimlessly past open drawer after open drawer, the niggling worry persisted. Had she keep that cinema ticket from last week’s trip to the Everyman Cinema? She would need that later to justify the grand she was deducting from her tax. Yes it was only £15.10 to get in but Nitty reckoned if she sold it in an auction of celebrity memorabilia one of the subs would have paid easily over a thousand pounds for it. So she in fact was being kind to all the taxers of the UK by only deducting a grand for it on her tax return. She rummaged in her coat pocket, which conveniently was on the floordrobe nearby. There it was. A little wine-stained and grubby and so was the ticket.
She felt the frustration rising. What was unnerving her so much? She had done everything a deeply kind person would do. She had updated her loyal following why the pregnancy suit for Manky that they hadn’t ordered hadn’t arrived yet. She had tweeted to Piers Morgan to be kind despite having slagged him off for weeks on the live vlog. She had booked several Ocado slots for the weeks ahead in case there was a second lockdown and she needed to help out those imaginary old people in her ghetto neighbourhood. She had even checked with her parents if her talentless younger sister the Spawn of Beelzebub was visiting any time soon so she could book another luxuxy tax-deductible hotel in Central London to kindly help the local economy.
Baffled, she wandered out onto the patio, stepping over the crisp packets, dead plants and spare stones from the path to nowhere. She tried to distract herself by planning her next attention-seeking, Readers-Wives style, body-confidence-raising nudie snaps and wondered what excuse she could use this time to justify her bestowing Mama’s Baps upon the nation this week.
Suddenly she felt a chill Norwood wind on her face. It would be winter soon. She felt her stomach sink and for once it wasn’t the weight of four MacDonalds plant-based Big Macs yielding to gravity. Our Queen of Kindness gulped in cold realisation.
It would be winter soon and, apart from a Covid second wave inexplicably as she had followed the government guidance pretty much to the letter, Winter would only bring one thing: Melanie Blake promoting her new book with a round of tell-all interviews. She gulped hard at the thought of the showbiz tales that Manky wouldn’t be able to delete. How could the Queen of Kindness keep hold of her crown?
Will do a Christmas story to counteract how awful they are with VlogmasBrilliant...chapter 2??
To which Susannah, a responsible parent, replied that she would not do that because of the embarrassment it would cause her children.Even worse its given him ideas!!
I hope you've got a giant tub of Cornish clotted cream ready to heat through with the Marmite.I'm actually going to make marmite spaghetti tonight, just to see how bad it truly is. My interest is piqued - I can't keep slagging it without at least trying it. Can it really be as disgusting as I imagine? It's just so weird that I have to try it.
If I don't post here by 7pm, send poison control to my house.
Hahahaha....I will go and have a look but who is KNDIL ? I don't do much SM (I am the dinosaur who does not have a flashy mobile) but love tattle life
Found it and first thing I see is a N type pic. Think I will have to post my un-ironed body on facebook.
That was such a nice postI think Nigella mentions that she got the idea from something that used to be quite traditional in Italy . Infact, I remember my Italian Grandma used to do something very similar. She would use any leftover gravy or stock from a roast on a Sunday to to make sauce for pasta, the next day. In the good old days nothing was thrown away, I thought she was just being very frugal. I think it is called something like: pasta con il sugo d'arrosto. Anyway, I am Italian so I do not like my pasta mucked about, but I think if this is done correctly, pasta with marmite sauce might be delicious and taste very similar to this traditional pasta sauce.
have a look at the pictures on this Italian web site that mentions "leftover roast sauce" http://www.lacucinadimarble.it/rec.php?id=683
The difference is roughly 300 Big Macs and a sense of self-awareness.There is a huge difference between Suzanna Reid and Nardliar....poles apart!
... in the afternoon or the eveningHAHA I also agree. I'm sorry but no one wants to see that in the morning
Send it to their house
That is brilliant. You are such a gifted writer. You have made me laugh so much I cried. You tattlers have a wonderful sense of humour. I think I said something similar a few weeks ago, but I really loved this story. You could perhaps send it publishers to see if they love it too or even print this first chapter and send it to various people
God please don,t give her any ideas!!I wish Harry Hill still did TV Burp, but with You Tubers. The Marmite spaghetti is her worst drunk student dish yet. They should be on Freaky Eaters for the amount of spaghetti they eat. I can't understand how Nitty boils everything in oil in that dirty pan, then calls it healthy. Just waiting for her to do choklit spag bol.
It’s 7.30pm, are you okay?I'm actually going to make marmite spaghetti tonight, just to see how bad it truly is. My interest is piqued - I can't keep slagging it without at least trying it. Can it really be as disgusting as I imagine? It's just so weird that I have to try it.
If I don't post here by 7pm, send poison control to my house.
Plus a huge dollop of professionalism, self pride and common sense.The difference is roughly 300 Big Macs and a sense of self-awareness.
Yes, it's not quite a Nadia cook along if she can't be arsed to have half the ingredients.I hope you've got a giant tub of Cornish clotted cream ready to heat through with the Marmite.
Enjoy - you clearly have a stronger constitution than little old me.
I am emotionally scarred by the marmite and pasta combo but physically ok... for now hahaha!It’s 7.30pm, are you okay?
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