SOS the Fat One - Part Deux

Liz Hurley stretched out a languid, elegantly manicured hand. A diamond the size of a quail's egg - the celebrated 14-carat Empress Of Versace stone, a gift from her beloved husband whatshisname - glimmered seductively in the candlelight. Liz's hand hovered for an instant, hesitating, and then grabbed at the slice of pizza. She raised it to her lips, lips as full and plump and wanton as Mike Gatting at an all-you-can eat carvery.

Liz sighed.

She put down the slice of pizza.

"Shane," she said. "Why must you insist on having pizza every time we see each other?"

"Steady on, Lizzo," said the Australian legend. "That's a Mighty Mega Meaty Stuffed Crust with extra pepperoni, onions, Reese's Pieces and transfats. You can say what you like about me, but you can't be taking a pop at a bloke's favourite pizza."

"It's just, you know, I'm not used to such… uncomplicated tastes," said the actress slash model slash woman who wore a dress with holes in it.

"Aw, don't come the raw prawn, Hurls, mate. Finish your pizza and we'll have a nice game of cards."

"Oh ya, super," said Liz. "Love cards. I played a little baccarat in Monte Carlo with my dear chum Sponker - the Crown Prince Of Transylvania, of course. Do you know Sponker, Shane? He's the most terrific fun."

"No, I don't," said the cricket legend, rather stiffly. "And you can forget about this baccarat carry-on. We're playing poker: twos up, stud."

"I must say it sounds awfully earthy," said Liz. "You play, Shane. I think I'm just going to sit here and count this big pile of money. Whatshisname has had a brilliant month with the factories or mines or whatever it is he does, apparently."

"Aw, you're no fun, Liz. You can't lay poker on your own, you daft Sheila," said Shane. "I'm going out."

"Fine," pouted the gorgeous Bedazzled star. "I'll just find myself another Australian spinner to hang out with. I hear there's absolutely hundreds."

"They're all bloody hopeless," fumed Shane.

"Nonsense," said Liz. "I was sat next to Michael Beer at Elton's charity Christmas ball, and he was the most terrific hoot. And Steve Smith had Mick Jagger and me in absolute stitches with his impression of Anita Pallenberg."

Shane paused. Upstaged by a nobody like Stevo? This just wasn't on.

Shane knew what he had to do. He fished his phone out of a pocket, his fingers nimble and strong and quick from years of ripping bamboozling leg-breaks and texting nurses. He dialled.

"Hilditch?" he said. "Warnie. How are you mate? Now, about that comeback…"