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The legendary sage of suburbia, Dotty LaFou rides again! In this episode, she addresses the issue of getting that famous person in your neighbourhood around for tea.
Twice a year (Christmas and Easter) we hold a street party and invite all the neighbours, including the only celebrity in the street (I won’t say who, but she’s a household name). She never fronts up or sends apologies. The neighbours are getting sick of her uppity and snobbish ways. Surely she can rustle up some smoked salmon blinis with the best of them. What do you advise?
Dealing with celebrities is such a mixed business. When I met former PM Paul Keating some time ago in an elevator we quickly developed a close rapport, especially when he wholeheartedly endorsed my comments on the weather. Such a shame our chat was curtailed when he reached the second floor and alighted. It’s true we didn’t exchange phone numbers but I do count him as a dear friend and feel sure that if I invited him to a soirée at my home, he’d not only come along but bring a nice bottle of wine too.
Like Paul, some celebrities are very approachable. One time my insufferable sister-in-law Berenice accosted poor sweet Nicole Kidman begging her for a selfie. Nicole obliged, smiling beatifically in the photograph, which just shows what a very fine actor she is. Putting up with tiresome fans like Berenice requires excellent performance skills. She, I’m certain, would come to your street party laden with smoked salmon blinis. My, aren’t they all the rage these days? Berenice’s husband Ernest is a little on the dull side, but his cooking skills are truly to die for. He makes his blinis using a combination of buckwheat and mashed potatoes, and the addition of buttermilk and lemon juice gives them a certain je ne sais quoi (as they say in Belgium). Let me assure you darling, they’re utterly delectable and really complement the crème fraîche and smoked salmon, although occasionally Ernest substitutes smoked trout for the salmon. It makes quite a difference, I was very surprised, but really my angel, both are delightful.
Also on The Big Smoke
- Ask Dotty: How do I manage this stressful life?
- Ask Dotty: How do I discuss emotional labour with my partner?
- Ask Dotty: How I can cope with my child’s unwelcome obsessions?
But what to do about your own local-but-a-household-name celebrity? She doesn’t appear to be down to earth like Paul and Nicole. Why, I’ll bet she even snorts derisively when she receives her invitations in the letterbox. It reminds of a very well known, best-selling rather pretentious author I know through Lady Gaga. Her cocker spaniel Butch likes to cavort with her at the dog park. Butch’s owner never fails to greet Lady Gaga, making googly eyes while smiling ironically but never once has she even called me by name! And me, a fellow author! She’s quite a puffed-up piece of work, more so since someone in Hollywood optioned one of her ridiculously implausible books. Really, is there nothing Reese Witherspoon won’t buy? Mind you, Butch is a dear little thing with a playful personality and a sweet face. But not his owner. You know, I’d never even consider reading one of her stupid books, that’s how much she annoys me, and I’d certainly never invite her to a boulevard bash. The hoity-toity meter would be through the roof!
Well there’s your answer, DeeDee my pet—stop inviting this condescending woman. One can’t go around acting like Lady Muck and continue to expect the admiration of one’s neighbours or invitations to charming get-togethers like your delightful street parties. Yes indeed, drop her like the soggy undercooked blini she epitomises. Let’s see what happens when the neighbours ignore her. You know what I think darling? That she’ll be so miffed she’ll throw her own party and invite everyone who lives in your gorgeous tree-lined street. You’ll all accept of course, because you’ve been dying to see whether the inside of her home really looks like it did in that spread in Vogue Living and whether the Brett Whiteley she claims to own is genuine or not. Wouldn’t it be marvellous if it wasn’t! I’m wickedly giggling at that very prospect. Tee hee.
Glad to have been of help. Ta ta for now.