Tale Teller Club Arts Hub: Countess Diaries Chapter 22 Madonna, Miniature Hats, and Midnight Mysteries

Nov 22, 2024

Countess Diaries Chapter 22 Madonna, Miniature Hats, and Midnight Mysteries

Diary Entry: Madonna, Miniature Hats, and Midnight Mysteries

Good evening, my dear world, from the steamy confines of my bath at Providence Palace. Tonight’s soak feels more like a sauna, but I persevere in the name of relaxation and diary-keeping. It has been a day both curious and exhausting, punctuated by debates, discoveries, and decisions about footwear. Let us begin.
The Madonna Madness

Today, my Facebook feed descended into chaos after I dared to question why people were so vile about Madonna. It seems the world—well, a very vocal segment of it—has taken issue with her Brit Awards tumble, her cape-related calamity, and, most of all, her refusal to act her so-called age.

“Talentless!” cried one.
“A [__]!” hissed another.

I couldn’t help but marvel at the vitriol. Why such outrage over a woman they’ve never met? Why such energy spent on hatred?

Naturally, I attempted to bring reason to the discussion, posting something along the lines of: “Why does her existence bother you so? Have you considered knitting?” But the comments kept coming, pinging relentlessly throughout the day. By mid-afternoon, I concluded that men are particularly prone to such outbursts, especially when faced with a woman unapologetically flaunting her existence. To these boys, I say: Sort yourselves out, darlings. Life’s too short for bitterness.
The Box of Mystery

Returning to the palace after my exhausting diplomatic efforts on social media, I encountered a peculiar sight. In the middle of the club sat a black box, ominous and silent. From within, a voice chirped, “All right, Pasha?”

I froze. Was the furniture speaking now? Had my wine consumption finally caught up with me? A quick investigation revealed Danny of DARK fame tinkering behind the box, replacing a fuse or bulb or some such thing. The contraption, he explained, was a piece of his BDSM equipment. Its function remains a mystery to me, though the strategically placed holes and menacing aesthetic suggest it’s not for making soufflés.

“Oh, Danny,” I sighed. “One day, this place will be a yoga studio, and you’ll still be here fixing lightbulbs on your medieval contraptions.”
The Outfit Dilemma

My upcoming show has consumed my thoughts, not least because I have yet to finalize my ensemble. Earlier, I purchased a delightful miniature pirate hat from a charity shop. It clips neatly into the hair and pairs beautifully with my absurdly high, see-through plastic boots. Does grey satin and clear plastic go together? I’ve decided it does.

The alternative is leopard-skin boots, but they lack the theatricality I crave. Besides, I suspect Joel has his heart set on them—he’s been eyeing them for weeks, and as my companion in fabulousness, I must oblige.
The Gosport Connection

A brief but notable call from my mother broke up the day’s chaos. She remains in Gosport, a town that defies description—though “banjos on rooftops” springs to mind. My mother, ever supportive, assured me she’s proud of my ventures. “That’s why you’re still my mum,” I told her. “No one else would put up with me.”
Closing Thoughts

And now, I must prepare for tomorrow. My show promises to be a spectacle of art, creativity, and questionable fashion choices. I’ve decided to bring no fewer than ten pairs of boots to ensure I’m ready for any sartorial eventuality. If you’re not attending, consider this my heartfelt reproach: How dare you miss the Countess’s show?

For those who do come, expect a night of wonder and madness—and perhaps a glimpse of my pirate hat in action. Until Saturday, my dears, I remain your Countess of Brighton and Hackney, sailing boldly into the waters of creativity, clad in satin and plastic.

Goodnight, you fabulous bastards.