Pass me the whisky

Part of Elizabeth Hurley's brain is missing. Perhaps she has packed it inside a pickle jar and it is hidden in one of the enormous suitcases she has had flown from Nice at a cost to her mother of 300 Euros. I don't know. But I've had my suspicions for some time. Here is the evidence.

1. Part of Elizabeth Hurley is distinctly plasticised. She has these beige lips which, like those glow-in-the-dark plastic fangs Tesco sells for Hallowe'en, are inserted around her mouth at going-out time. Going-out time can be to the playground, the farm, the Co-op, the pub or to the bottom of the garden. The lips are very smooth and shiny and look a bit detachable. Also, she does not move her mouth much when she has her lips inserted.

2. When Dig took Shark, Squirrel, Tiger and Elizabeth Hurley to the kiddie theme park, Elizabeth Hurley said she had fun on the kiddie rides and roller coaster but was a bit disappointed because it was all not Disney enough. She was expecting more plastic trees, Mickey Mouse and, preferably, some singing flowers. The absence of these was a sad disappointment.

3. Pixies exist. It's true. Elizabeth Hurley has proof. Here's her story. Put your plastic lips in, then tell it to yourself while you wear a very intense, possibly French-looking expression, slap your hand flat on the table to emphasise your main point, and open your eyes wide at the astonishing conclusion. At which point, also declare, in a French accent, 'Incroyable? Mais vrai!'

'My muzzer, she keep a bottle of whisky on ze shelf, la. Zeez bottle is always full. She never like whisky. Me, I never like whisky. Zeez bottle, always there. Zen, one morning, we come to the kitchen, and la! C'est la verite! Zeez bottle, it is empty! Who could have drunk zee whisky? My muzzer? Non. Moi? Non. Zee Pixies. Oui. Incroyable? Mais vrai!'

So here is Grit, thrust into a land of insertable lips, plastic flowers and naughty pixies, where the words 'chalk' and 'cheese' are everyday now becoming more idiomatically appropriate.