Washing Up

Washing up simply has to be the bane of any lad-about-town-ladyboy, doesn't it? I've often spent a few minutes trailing my fingers in the cold bath water around a slightly tipsy accompaniment who's had one two many and needs a little brightening up, mainly because it helps my nail varnish to dry more quickly. The same can't be said of a four litre bowl of hot water and Fairy Liquid.

What better time to enquire of washing up tips and tricks than when I popped round dear old Nanette's for a quick bone china cup of Earl Grey. Nanette won't use anything other than bone china, not since her work on the Stepford Wives which gave her a new appreciation for frillies and presentation. Her solution may suprise you - and it's not 'rubber gloves'!

She employs what she calls 'a simply darling local chav'. I was amazed, somehow having missed this entire 'chav' subculture that's taken over the UK. I think it's probably because I don't venture into the rougher areas of the UK; in fact anything north of Norwich is a bit too wild for me, and I certainly wouldn't be seen dead in the streets of somewhere like Glasgow.

Apparently, and the secret's out now, the great thing about a chav dishwasher is you don't need to buy salt, they provide their own tablets (oh, how Nan and I laughed at that one!) and they usually have plenty of strapping teenage daughters called Tracy to take over if they're ill. Great stuff!