Introducing, in the red corner

Do good things come to those who wait?

Abso-bloody-lutely they do! Although it has the makings of a fairy tale, the story you are about to read is real.

Once upon a time there lived a Kiwi maiden (Made in NZ) called Frumpalicious, Frumps (for short). She grew up in a small city that, back in ye olden times, had no H and yet, despite this missing letter, Frumps wanted for nothing. Life was good, family holidays were had in many far-off lands.

Frump left her H-less home and moved to the superest city of them all, Auckland. She was given the best education that money could buy, and it was at school that Frumps discovered her love of reading and writing. She would lose herself in books for hours, and when she wasn't reading a book she would be writing one, and when she wasn't writing she'd be hiding out the back sneaking a smoke and opening the sealed section of her Mum's Cleo magazine. It was life on the edge, make no mistake.

Frump grew up to be quite a fair maiden, indeed. All natural, too, not a hint of bleach. She managed to turn a head or two in her day and at one point was no stranger to wearing a size 10 - in a dress, not a shoe. Ahhh ... ye good olde days.

Frumpalicious met her share of princes and eventually found her one true love, in the H-less hospital of all places. To think that love could flourish amid all that bacteria and infection.

Together they travelled to far-off kingdoms, following Bobbeth the Dylan on tour and frolicking in the land of the Disney in the US and feasting on clams and tequila in Mexico before returning home.

She was lucky enough to get a job doing what she loved most - writing - and then, when all seemed right with the world, she parted ways with her Prince. Maybe some insidious superbug had infected her true love that day on ye olde Eason Ward lying dormant for years before bursting like an angry red boil on the bum, tainting everything beautiful and sacred to Frumps.

As always, time allowed Frump's heart to heal and she met and eventually married the father of her three spawn. A faulty, two-headed sperm resulted in identical twins, which proved to be a blessing of sorts and the best contraceptive ever.

Alas, this relationship, too, would not end well for Frumps, or perhaps it did but she just couldn't see it at the time.

The following years, however, were not kind to Frumpalicious. Raising three spawn on her own, was it not for the help of the aged and crusty fossil that was her mother, Frumps would surely have endured the company of men in white coats while she remained securely locked away in a tower for tortured souls and unpublished writers.

The figure that once turned heads now saw talking scales screaming for mercy. Her strawberry blonde hair was now a boring shade of brown with grey gatecrashers trying to muscle their way in.

Life on a benefit was unbelievably hard for Frumps but, one way or another, the spawn wanted for nothing. To this day it remains a mystery as to how Frump's boys became so academically gifted, even if they didn't always utilise their given powers as best they could. With the spawn ageing fast, Frumps knew that going back to work was not only necessary but desired on her part. She had all but given up on her dream of writing. Her journals to date had been for her eyes only.

In preparation for returning to the workforce, Frumps managed to get a placement at a local newspaper, having been absent from the workforce for eight years and with no experience as a reporter or any knowledge of what it takes to make news.

The wise and wonderful Editor took pity on this wretched creature before him, finding small and menial tasks to amuse and occupy her.

Frump's passion for writing had been reignited and 'twas not long before her two fat fingers danced clumsily over the keys, and news stories, in spite of needing much editing, were being published. Frumpalicious allowed herself to dream ... she dreamt of having her own column. She shared this thought with two or three of her colleagues in the newsroom and was basically laughed at, being told that she had to be "someone" to have a column and that it would "never happen" Others, however, encouraged her dream.

Frumps begged the wise Editor to give her a chance, she bribed him with Russian fudge and wowed him with her written samplings. Despite the fact the paper was not in a financial position to employ Frumps, the discerning and kind-hearted Editor offered Frumps her very own column.

The rest is history.

Last word, to those who said it would never happen: Nah nah nah nah nah ... I'm humble, too ... LOL

The End