It's funny, Aunty Peggy used to call it Telling Fairy Stories. Although I do have a tendency to tell a few fibs now and again. I was just little then but they still locked me up. That was at the first Home, when I wouldn't settle because I wanted my mum so much. I've done a bit of stamping and screaming in my time.Īnd I've been locked up heaps of times. You stamp your feet in a rage and fall right through the floorboards or you scream yourself into a frenzy and you get locked up in a tower and they throw away the key. So, of course, you get a bit cheesed off with this sort of treatment. You get given a silly name like Rumpelstiltskin and nobody invites you to their party and no-one's ever grateful even when you do them a whopping great favour. But if you're bad and ugly then you've got no chance whatsoever. Which is fine if you happen to be a goodie-goodie and look gorgeous. If you're very good and very beautiful with long golden curls then, after sweeping up a few cinders or having a long kip in a cobwebby palace, this prince comes along and you live happily ever after. That sounds a bit stupid, like the start of a soppy fairy story. Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Tracy Beaker.
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