PRINCESS DIANA ALIVE AND SECRETLY WORKING IN BATH

This extremely important news story, readers, is a very personal matter for me and to be truthful I had to think long and hard before releasing it to the world. My motive was simple enough. In view of all the recent conspiracy theory stories and drama surrounding her name, her death, her supposed murder by an SAS sniper of all things that has appeared in the British press in recent weeks I felt compelled to set the record straight. This tale of an SAS sniper trolled around various newspapers, particularly the Daily Express whose circulation has often depended on such tales for a good number of years, is yet another good old worked up yarn, substantiated by a storyline thinner than any chemical weapons attack justification soon to be used by America for attacking Syria! Sounds great as a headline. SAS Kill Princess Diana but only if you’re totally susceptible to bullshit!

Yes, there’s been all kinds of conspiracy stuff peddled about the nation’s once Dearly Beloved like how and why she died but there’s nothing at all about the real truth… how badly she wanted to leave public life, how desperate she was to drop all the royal crap and escape from those Windsor Crazies, lead a normal life, a life of her own and for herself. Forget all the Dodi Fayed supposed romance. Supposed I say. All that was a blind, a careful invention. Something she herself cooked up to throw all the press-hounds and bullies off the scent. You know what they’re like. So did she, as we all know. Creeps who spend most of their apprenticeship time learning how to smell shit and when they can do it from half a mile off they get to work in the gutter. Well she knew all about them right enough, they’d been getting up her nose and more for years and what with the wonky-Windsors and all as is well known, she’d had more than enough and wanted out.

But how to escape? That was the question. Lovers and boyfriends? It all took her round in the same kind of circle with the same kind of dirt, the same kind of publicity, speculation and what can best be described as plain rubbish. No, she wanted out from all that. Out from the whole god-dammed lot, with the exception of her children perhaps. It was all simple enough really and she’d almost certainly known it for years. The only way to get out of it all and be a normal human being again was to fake her own death, and that would take some serious organisation and planning. She undoubtedly had friends in the military but there were very few she could trust. This was, after all, a pretty big thing. The secret would have to be confined to one single person, maybe two at the most. A confidante, someone with whom she could plan the whole thing. Convince the police, convince just about everyone. The chauffeur and Dodi? They were sadly expendable. She had her own personal agenda. To live her own life. Her life, not something she was living for everyone else. She was, as everyone knows, very much her own person but in time she’d become public property. Every part of her, her thoughts, her feelings, belonging to millions of others.

When the time came she just wanted escape so she faked her own death. She knew where she was going. Somewhere where no-one would find her because no-one would look. Not somewhere far away in some country or other, some retreat or hideaway. No, the best place, somewhere no-one would look was here at home. Some town or other. Lying low for a while. Developing a new identity. Looking older in time so that people might think she was just some strange kind of look-a-like. After all she was dead, wasn’t she? A fact so well established by the media, the police, her Royal family, just about the whole bloody Establishment, that no-one would think any different. All it needed was for someone else to go in the coffin and that wouldn’t be so hard to fix. The boyfriend was easy enough so someone similar and newly deceased, a bit of makeup in the mortuary. After all, how many of her adoring public every got to see her face once she was dead? They were all too busy crying! So what might have seemed almost impossible might have actually turned out to be easy, and so it was.

In effect she just vanished out of the scene. Hid away, moved from place to place, changed her appearance. She had money enough so it was all simple and easy. Relatively straightforward. I mean think of how many people must have said it… Did you see that woman just now in the street? Didn’t she look just like Diana! Or… I had a really strange experience yesterday on my way out of Morrisons. Saw some woman who looked just like Diana, only older in a funny kind of way. Really spooky it was! Okay so your wife or your mate listen, but never think of it twice. Diana, coming out of a shop! Oh yeah, and my name’s Wayne Rooney! Well I’m sure you know what I mean. No, some small town somewhere, not a village or too small a place. Maybe somewhere like Norwich, Yeovil, Canterbury or Bath. Plenty of people but a good social mix. Everyone too busy to think about anyone else!

That was where I first saw her. The face looked familiar all right. Nice looking lady I thought and a bit like the woman that everyone once knew. In everyone’s heart if you know what I mean. Especially after she’d died. It was just a curiosity at first. A strange reminiscence that passed across my mind. Nothing more. I didn’t see her for six months after that but then I came across her again. Working in one of the town’s coffee shops. Wearing flat shoes and done up in an apron. Serving at one of the tables. My memory of that first encounter immediately came back. She looked much older than the princess I ‘knew’. Early fifties perhaps, hair grey and a bit dowdy, going about her business. Picking up a tip from one of her tables. Serving coffee and cakes to a family of Japanese tourists. Just some ordinary woman with an ordinary job here in Bath. Typical cheap labour in the town’s tourist trade. Then something caught my attention. A little girl around six all oriental and pretty had looked up at her and showed her the cuddly toy she was holding. Suddenly the waitress smiled with pleasure. A kind of warm friendly smile that went straight to the heart, with her eyes lit up a fraction. The whole thing stirred my thoughts and hit me like some kind of shock. Well if that wasn’t a dead ringer for Diana’s well known expression then I’d be dammed if I knew what it was. But that was impossible…

Almost immediately I turned and looked again but by that time her face wasn’t so clear. She’d moved away and was heading back to the counter. I’d hoped to catch another glimpse but never did. Not on that occasion.

I went home with my head buzzing, not knowing what to make of it all, the whole thing turning round and round in my head. Diana! Yeah, the dead Princess… So go tell it to Rupert Murdoch! A few days passed. I wanted to go back to the coffee shop and take a peek but quite frankly began wondering how delusional I was myself. Diana, serving up cream teas in Sally Lunn’s! Let it go boy or you’re in for a serious headache!

That’s exactly what I did! Just let it go. That is until a few days ago! Sure, I’d checked out the teashop again time later but found out that a Miss Cooper who’d been working there had left. It went out of my mind all over again till last Saturday, just before lunch. I was sitting with some friends in the lounge of one of the big hotels in the city taking some drinks when a touch of perfume drifted by. I turned and immediately took in that long narrow face once again. It was her! Passing by the desk in the foyer giving the receptionist a nod before going through the revolving doors at the entrance. It had to be her! I mean, it was the same woman I’d seen in the teahouse! Just imagine my feelings. What on earth was she doing at the hotel? Should I approach the woman behind the desk? What the hell should I ask? Seconds later I was up on my feet, going over like I was walking into some kind of dream. That lady? I asked, wasn’t she in yesterday’s news on Points West? ...which by the way, for the uninitiated, is the deadly dull and dreary local television news. The woman looked at me with some surprise. What Mildred, you’ve got to be kidding! She’s been chambermaid here for over a year! Not likely to be on anything really!

Mildred the Chambermaid! It should have killed it once and for all! Yeah, Princess Diana some wretched chambermaid… but then the more I thought about it the more the whole thing came together. It’s exactly what she would do! Drift from place to place. Never allowing any firm identity to build up behind her. The control of her life firmly in her own hands. It was then that I thought of the boys. Her two sons whom she’d always so clearly loved. Now one was happily married to a really fine girl and they’d just had a son. If this woman was really the person I thought then she had a grandson. She was a grandmother and mother-in-law! Did she, could she ever see the two children? Did she ever see any of her family. The virtual impossibility of the whole situation was only too evident. It was indeed truly impossible. The grey-haired slim woman with the aquiline face was at best only some vague kind of look-alike. It was all in my mind… If I came out with any of it I’d end up in an asylum. I mean, the Establishment wouldn’t find it that hard, with all their friends in the judiciary. Just a brief nod and it would be the men in white coats backed up by the nour nour sir, you’d better come along with us in the van, boys. No, open my mouth and I was part of the living dead, locked away somewhere deep underground like I was in some kind of French novel!

And yet, and yet… I was a writer. I had a story to tell! But then, when all’s said and done I just couldn’t be sure. Was it really the Princess? Could it really be her after so many years? I needed more evidence, but that would be almost impossible. If she really was who I thought she’d smell some kind of rat half a mile off. There was no way of getting anywhere near her if you know what I mean.

It was yesterday that matters came to a head. Soon as I’d seen her in the hotel my mind was a whirl. I just had to go back. See if I could just get a sight of her, however brief once again. I did and it was early that evening that I definitely knew. In through the doors and passing close to the desk I was recognised by the girl on reception. You’re the gentleman who was here just a short while ago, was the part enquiring voice with which I was greeted. I nodded, my eyes taking in the plump curves in her blouse. Well sir, as you can imagine we all had a shock… Miss Mildred phoned in early this morning… Got a much better job down in Devon she said… Some mate of hers came in later to pick up her pay… Was she some friend of yours if you don’t mind me asking? I smiled, just shrugged my shoulders. Just someone I knew I half muttered . I got a coy look on the way out. Interested in middle-aged women eh? Well she sure knew my type!

I left, knowing for sure now that I’d been right all along. Seen at the teahouse then at the hotel. She’d put it together and got the hell out. If I wasn’t some rat in the media it could even be worse. Somewhere in Devon? That was also a blind. She could be just about anywhere by now, and look, let me put it to you straight. I know all of you out there want to know more. Get back under her skin as it were just for your own satisfaction so I’ll tell you the truth. Well it’s like this so you’d better be ready for it. I’ve decided for the sake of journalistic honesty and integrity to come clean. I made the whole story up just to give you a read. I know absolutely nothing about Diana. I’ve never seen anyone who even remotely looks like her! Honestly, I swear to God…

And finally… here’s a question for you. Can you see any connection between the above post and the assertion that the Syrian Government used chemical weapons on rebels, one about to be used as a pretext for America attacking that country? If you can see any connection your comments will be welcome.

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