Sources inform me that she was under the influence of codeine (aka methylmorphine, an opiate used for its analgesic, antitussive and antidiarrheal properties) and other troubling pharmaceutical drugs administered by her dentist when she forgot for a moment that there's fuck-all else to do on a Tuesday night in London but dance attendance on her mirrored person to a 60s soundtrack. "The dentist had no choice but to sedate her because her roots were hanging out of her mouth like spaghetti," one of her semi-naked male litter-bearers tells me. "The drugs turned her mind for a day or two. But now she's back to herself and her dangling gob roots are gone."
Madame Arcati has agreed to host one evening soon at the Greek Street club under her watchful eye as party empress. I'm thinking of a theme - it maybe a Margaret Rutherford evening or one dedicated to people who look a bit pervy. Feel free to make your own suggestions, but remember Madame Arcati likes to combine elegance with inappropriateness.
The party tomorrow there will be to bid daughter Sophie adieu as she prepares for marital bliss in Hollandaise Sauce Land. Please bring a stolen sachet of the relevant condiment in her honour.
Margaret Rutherford, possible theme of the Madame Arcati Night at the Green Carnation
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