The Duchess of York’s new book, Finding Sarah: A Duchess’s Journey To Find Herself, is an unintentionally hilarious mixture of memoir and self-help.
She relates how she has confronted her demons by using such therapies as writing down ‘I love myself more than I ever imagined possible’ 25 times a day.
But why stop with her own woes? Why doesn’t Fergie use her hard-earned wisdom to solve all of the world’s problems? David Thomas imagines how she might do it . . .
The Libyan Campaign
War totally disturbs cosmic harmony and affects the feng shui of the universe, even if my darling former husband and love-of-my-life Andy does look jolly, jolly handsome in his uniform.
So, of course, I’m awfully bothered by the fact we’re bombing Latvia . . . or is it Liberia? No, Libya! Silly me!!
Apparently, we don’t like Colonel Gaddafi and we want to get rid of him.
And I must say that makes me feel rairly sorry for the poor Colonel, because I know just what it’s like when the media and the whole Establishment hate you and want to drive you out of your country.
In fact, I’ve written about it in my latest book Poor Me: How I’ve Survived Years And Years Of The Most Appalling Suffering And Oppression, by Her Royal Princessness Sarah Ferguson (published by Piffle & Tripe, £19.99).
To overcome other people’s beastliness, I write down a little sentence 100 times a day.
It goes: ‘I rairly, rairly love me, because someone has to.’ That reminds me I’m wonderful and lovable and deserve to be adored.
I think poor Colonel Gadaffi should do that. Then he’ll feel better about himself. And maybe if he feels better about himself, he won’t feel the need to be a dictator any more and we won’t have to bomb him.
And if you think that doesn’t make much sense, well, all I can say is, do you think David Cameron has a better idea?
The Greek Economy
I feel terrifically sympathetic towards the people of Greece. They’ve totally lost control of their spending and I so know what they’re going through. They’re in danger of bankruptcy: me, too.
They can only keep going thanks to money from the EU. I can only keep a roof over my head thanks to a free house from the Royal Family. So if you think about it, we’re both getting handouts from Germans.
People keep saying the Greeks should pay more tax. That sounds like a rairly silly idea to me. Who wants to pay more tax? In fact, who wants to pay tax at all? Not me, so it’s jolly lucky I don’t have a job!
But, of course, one does have to cut down. When I was £4 million in debt I wrote down an Action Plan, listing all the ways I could save money. It went:
1. Take one less holiday a month
2. Er . . .
Actually, I never thought of a second money-saving idea. But what I did do was to write down another little message to myself: ‘I should have a jolly nice time . . . because I’m worth it.’
I kept writing that down every day, and at the end of the year I discovered it had worked! I wasn’t £4 million in debt any more! I was £5 million in debt.
But it rairly doesn’t matter. No matter how totally chaotic my finances become, I still keep on living exactly as I please.
So what I say to the Greeks is: keep on spending! Someone will always pick up the tab. And it doesn’t have to be you.
The Teachers’ Strike
The whole teachers’ strike was rairly hard for me to understand. So, I asked Andy what a strike was and he said he thought it was when a bunch of working-class people just stand around for a day doing nothing, but he wasn’t entirely sure.
So then we both asked the Duchess of Cambridge, because she’s practically working-class herself, so she rairly understands how people like that live.
And she explained that in a strike workers withdraw their labour, instead of doing a normal job and earning a regular wage.
I said: ‘Well, in that case I’ve been on strike my entire life!’
Then Kate said, no, it wasn’t like me at all because these people were fighting for their principles. And I said: ‘Who’s Prince Iples? Is he one of the Monaco lot? I bet he’s a total dish!’
Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I have quite a lot in common with teachers, even if they have to make do with just 12 weeks’ holiday a year.
After all, they want everyone else to work extra hard and give them lots of money so they can spend their old age in comfort at other people’s expense. And that seems thoroughly reasonable to me.
So I think the Government should give the teachers everything they want. And give me a bit extra, too.
The Coalition
As David Cameron and poor, sweet Nick Clegg try to make their coalition work, they must feel just like Diana and I did in the old days.
They rairly want to be friends, but one of them just can’t help being so much jollier and more popular than the other, so, of course, that causes jealousy and resentment.
And then the media get hold of the story and blow the whole beastly business out of all proportion.
Let me be clear: I loved Diana like the skinny, neurotic, younger sister I never had, just as I’m sure Dave loves Nick like a younger brother who’s just a tad less scrummy and smart than him.
Of course, Diana and I had our feuds. She became jolly cross with me because I wrote in a book that I’d caught verrucas from a pair of her shoes I’d borrowed.
I told her it was a public health issue. A bit like the whole NHS reform thingy — though it’s a mystery to me why people don’t just go to Harley Street if they’re feeling a bit under the weather. I know a brill doctor who can take years off you and is totally discreet.
Sadly, the bitterness continued even after Diana’s death. I was deeply wounded when I didn’t get an invitation to William and Kate’s wedding, just as darling Nick must be cross when David doesn’t ask him to pop round to Chequers for the weekend with his chums.
But trust me, Nick, you must rise above the pain, just like I did. I gave Andy a picture of me to carry, so that I would be with him in spirit. So why not ask David to carry a picture of you in his pocket when he goes to meet important people such as Her Maj or Barack Osama?
Then go on holiday to Bali and try repeating to the mirror ‘I Am Not Worthless, I Am Deputy Prime Minister’ 30 times a day.
You’ll soon feel as special and loved by the people as yours truly.
Beastly: Future mother-in-law Carolyn Bourne
She relates how she has confronted her demons by using such therapies as writing down ‘I love myself more than I ever imagined possible’ 25 times a day.
But why stop with her own woes? Why doesn’t Fergie use her hard-earned wisdom to solve all of the world’s problems? David Thomas imagines how she might do it . . .
The Libyan Campaign
War totally disturbs cosmic harmony and affects the feng shui of the universe, even if my darling former husband and love-of-my-life Andy does look jolly, jolly handsome in his uniform.
So, of course, I’m awfully bothered by the fact we’re bombing Latvia . . . or is it Liberia? No, Libya! Silly me!!
Apparently, we don’t like Colonel Gaddafi and we want to get rid of him.
And I must say that makes me feel rairly sorry for the poor Colonel, because I know just what it’s like when the media and the whole Establishment hate you and want to drive you out of your country.
In fact, I’ve written about it in my latest book Poor Me: How I’ve Survived Years And Years Of The Most Appalling Suffering And Oppression, by Her Royal Princessness Sarah Ferguson (published by Piffle & Tripe, £19.99).
To overcome other people’s beastliness, I write down a little sentence 100 times a day.
It goes: ‘I rairly, rairly love me, because someone has to.’ That reminds me I’m wonderful and lovable and deserve to be adored.
I think poor Colonel Gadaffi should do that. Then he’ll feel better about himself. And maybe if he feels better about himself, he won’t feel the need to be a dictator any more and we won’t have to bomb him.
And if you think that doesn’t make much sense, well, all I can say is, do you think David Cameron has a better idea?
The Greek Economy
I feel terrifically sympathetic towards the people of Greece. They’ve totally lost control of their spending and I so know what they’re going through. They’re in danger of bankruptcy: me, too.
They can only keep going thanks to money from the EU. I can only keep a roof over my head thanks to a free house from the Royal Family. So if you think about it, we’re both getting handouts from Germans.
People keep saying the Greeks should pay more tax. That sounds like a rairly silly idea to me. Who wants to pay more tax? In fact, who wants to pay tax at all? Not me, so it’s jolly lucky I don’t have a job!
But, of course, one does have to cut down. When I was £4 million in debt I wrote down an Action Plan, listing all the ways I could save money. It went:
1. Take one less holiday a month
2. Er . . .
Actually, I never thought of a second money-saving idea. But what I did do was to write down another little message to myself: ‘I should have a jolly nice time . . . because I’m worth it.’
I kept writing that down every day, and at the end of the year I discovered it had worked! I wasn’t £4 million in debt any more! I was £5 million in debt.
But it rairly doesn’t matter. No matter how totally chaotic my finances become, I still keep on living exactly as I please.
So what I say to the Greeks is: keep on spending! Someone will always pick up the tab. And it doesn’t have to be you.
The Teachers’ Strike
So then we both asked the Duchess of Cambridge, because she’s practically working-class herself, so she rairly understands how people like that live.
And she explained that in a strike workers withdraw their labour, instead of doing a normal job and earning a regular wage.
I said: ‘Well, in that case I’ve been on strike my entire life!’
Then Kate said, no, it wasn’t like me at all because these people were fighting for their principles. And I said: ‘Who’s Prince Iples? Is he one of the Monaco lot? I bet he’s a total dish!’
Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I have quite a lot in common with teachers, even if they have to make do with just 12 weeks’ holiday a year.
After all, they want everyone else to work extra hard and give them lots of money so they can spend their old age in comfort at other people’s expense. And that seems thoroughly reasonable to me.
So I think the Government should give the teachers everything they want. And give me a bit extra, too.
The Coalition
As David Cameron and poor, sweet Nick Clegg try to make their coalition work, they must feel just like Diana and I did in the old days.
They rairly want to be friends, but one of them just can’t help being so much jollier and more popular than the other, so, of course, that causes jealousy and resentment.
And then the media get hold of the story and blow the whole beastly business out of all proportion.
Let me be clear: I loved Diana like the skinny, neurotic, younger sister I never had, just as I’m sure Dave loves Nick like a younger brother who’s just a tad less scrummy and smart than him.
Of course, Diana and I had our feuds. She became jolly cross with me because I wrote in a book that I’d caught verrucas from a pair of her shoes I’d borrowed.
I told her it was a public health issue. A bit like the whole NHS reform thingy — though it’s a mystery to me why people don’t just go to Harley Street if they’re feeling a bit under the weather. I know a brill doctor who can take years off you and is totally discreet.
Sadly, the bitterness continued even after Diana’s death. I was deeply wounded when I didn’t get an invitation to William and Kate’s wedding, just as darling Nick must be cross when David doesn’t ask him to pop round to Chequers for the weekend with his chums.
But trust me, Nick, you must rise above the pain, just like I did. I gave Andy a picture of me to carry, so that I would be with him in spirit. So why not ask David to carry a picture of you in his pocket when he goes to meet important people such as Her Maj or Barack Osama?
Then go on holiday to Bali and try repeating to the mirror ‘I Am Not Worthless, I Am Deputy Prime Minister’ 30 times a day.
You’ll soon feel as special and loved by the people as yours truly.
Beastly: Future mother-in-law Carolyn Bourne
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