I
currently look like a bloody poodle so can you please put an end to my misery
and let me know what you are screeching about,” she trilled, shaking her head
in a puzzled fashion.
Minx smoothed out the newspaper
so she could see the huge headline.
“Listen,” she said loudly.
Evening Bulletin
***
The lucky winner who finds The Golden Star located in an envelope in the
magazine section of the Evening Bulletin shall win the prize of a
lifetime. The Evening Bulletin and the
Game Show have joined forces to offer the lucky winner the opportunity to spend
a week with any individual of their choice.
On your behalf, we shall approach a celebrity or their representative and
should they agree, The Evening Bulletin, in partnership with the Game Show will
donate 10 Million Euros to a charity the celebrity chooses.
It could be you spending the week with royalty, a movie star or rock
star of your fantasies, while we pick up the tab.
Are they all you imagined? Come
back and tell us for an exclusive interview after your dream week. Good luck to you all!
Terms and Conditions Apply. Please read the fine print on the back of the Golden Star.
***
“Darling, will you be
followed by a camera crew?” Minx switched
off while her Mum launched into a rambling story about the time she applied for
a spot on Big Brother. Eventually she
stopped for breath and Minx seized her opportunity to reply.
“No, it’s not one of those
reality TV shows. I won’t have camera’s
following me into the toilet or while I take a shower.”
“That’s a relief. I certainly wouldn’t like my bridge friends
gloating about watching my daughter live on television, possibly having a
romp.”
“Mother, of course not,”
Minx squealed and shook her head.
“Have you thought about the
person you are going to choose?”
“I’m going to spend tonight
thinking about it, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Mummy,” said Minx.
“Congratulations,
Minx. Goodnight,” said her mother, hanging
up the phone.
Minx sat very still,
examining the Golden Star ticket. It was
made from a sheet of pure gold hammered into the shape of a glimmering
star. Minx took several deep breaths as
a slow and marvellous smile spread over her face and she proceeded to dial the
telephone number listed on the back of the golden star.
Chapter Two
The sun was shining
brightly the following morning but the air was still ice-cold as a swarm of
photographers and journalists camped outside her apartment. Minx could not believe they had tracked her
down already. They all wanted to get the
full story for the front pages of the afternoon papers. For several hours there was pandemonium
outside the apartment.
Minx slipped on a dazzling
print geometric jumpsuit with a Karl Lagerfeld leather corset belt and
skyscraper Louboutins. Minx indulged in
two slices of toast with sprinkled cheese and a coffee.
She grabbed her coat and
designer handbag and left her apartment wearing minimal makeup and Gucci
sunglasses to attend a photo shoot. Minx
was the face of a new range of makeup and was participating in a lavish
advertising campaign. She waved to the cameras
and brushed past the waiting press swamping her with questions. Minx hopped into a slick Aston Martin waiting
outside to drive her to her assignment.
Minx crossed her enviably
toned legs and picked up her tinkling mobile as the Aston Martin sped through
the city.
“Hello Darling,”
“Is it true?”
“Yes Mary, who told you?”
“I just saw a photo of you
on bloody SKY news,” she yelled down the phone.
“The media certainly work
fast,” Minx giggled.
“Everyone is talking about
it. Have you thought about whom you want
to spend the week with?”
“I rang the Game Show this
morning. I thought about it all last
night. It has to be my teenage crush, the
elusive, mysterious Stanley Marx,” Minx said, turning her attention to a
roasted peanut and caramel
currently look like a bloody poodle so can you please put an end to my misery
and let me know what you are screeching about,” she trilled, shaking her head
in a puzzled fashion.
Minx smoothed out the newspaper
so she could see the huge headline.
“Listen,” she said loudly.
Evening Bulletin
***
The lucky winner who finds The Golden Star located in an envelope in the
magazine section of the Evening Bulletin shall win the prize of a
lifetime. The Evening Bulletin and the
Game Show have joined forces to offer the lucky winner the opportunity to spend
a week with any individual of their choice.
On your behalf, we shall approach a celebrity or their representative and
should they agree, The Evening Bulletin, in partnership with the Game Show will
donate 10 Million Euros to a charity the celebrity chooses.
It could be you spending the week with royalty, a movie star or rock
star of your fantasies, while we pick up the tab.
Are they all you imagined? Come
back and tell us for an exclusive interview after your dream week. Good luck to you all!
Terms and Conditions Apply. Please read the fine print on the back of the Golden Star.
***
“Darling, will you be
followed by a camera crew?” Minx switched
off while her Mum launched into a rambling story about the time she applied for
a spot on Big Brother. Eventually she
stopped for breath and Minx seized her opportunity to reply.
“No, it’s not one of those
reality TV shows. I won’t have camera’s
following me into the toilet or while I take a shower.”
“That’s a relief. I certainly wouldn’t like my bridge friends
gloating about watching my daughter live on television, possibly having a
romp.”
“Mother, of course not,”
Minx squealed and shook her head.
“Have you thought about the
person you are going to choose?”
“I’m going to spend tonight
thinking about it, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Mummy,” said Minx.
“Congratulations,
Minx. Goodnight,” said her mother, hanging
up the phone.
Minx sat very still,
examining the Golden Star ticket. It was
made from a sheet of pure gold hammered into the shape of a glimmering
star. Minx took several deep breaths as
a slow and marvellous smile spread over her face and she proceeded to dial the
telephone number listed on the back of the golden star.
Chapter Two
The sun was shining
brightly the following morning but the air was still ice-cold as a swarm of
photographers and journalists camped outside her apartment. Minx could not believe they had tracked her
down already. They all wanted to get the
full story for the front pages of the afternoon papers. For several hours there was pandemonium
outside the apartment.
Minx slipped on a dazzling
print geometric jumpsuit with a Karl Lagerfeld leather corset belt and
skyscraper Louboutins. Minx indulged in
two slices of toast with sprinkled cheese and a coffee.
She grabbed her coat and
designer handbag and left her apartment wearing minimal makeup and Gucci
sunglasses to attend a photo shoot. Minx
was the face of a new range of makeup and was participating in a lavish
advertising campaign. She waved to the cameras
and brushed past the waiting press swamping her with questions. Minx hopped into a slick Aston Martin waiting
outside to drive her to her assignment.
Minx crossed her enviably
toned legs and picked up her tinkling mobile as the Aston Martin sped through
the city.
“Hello Darling,”
“Is it true?”
“Yes Mary, who told you?”
“I just saw a photo of you
on bloody SKY news,” she yelled down the phone.
“The media certainly work
fast,” Minx giggled.
“Everyone is talking about
it. Have you thought about whom you want
to spend the week with?”
“I rang the Game Show this
morning. I thought about it all last
night. It has to be my teenage crush, the
elusive, mysterious Stanley Marx,” Minx said, turning her attention to a
roasted peanut and caramel
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