This is a strange love letter Pats, please can I call you Pats? I feel that we could be best friends. I know I've said this to a lot of people recently: Lilo, Mariah, Jennifer Lawrence to name a few but you are different. You are my favourite vodka downing, chain smoking, coke snorting, hot mess. Anyone who can maintain that beehive whilst downing bottles of Bolly should be commended.Look at you, you are fabulous, a woman after my own heart who isn't afraid to wear her heart on her brilliantly oversized shoulder pads. I should hate you. You are mean and stand for most things I am against but as soon as I see you with a bottle of Bolly in hand, and your sunglassses on I am head over heels. I can see us running down the Kings Road, knocking over yummy mummies, stopping off for lunch and a few cocktails at the Bluebird before carrying right on down Sloane Street for dinner at Harvey Nics and the clubs of Knightsbridge. Please love me Pats, forget Eddie and love me sweetie darling, please.
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