I've grown whiskers and if I puff out my cheeks I look like a monkey. A monkey in a cravat. And top hat. An upper class monkey.

I've adopted an orphan. I say adopted, but she'll be asked to leave once the cleaning is done.

My scullery maid will have to go. She's ever so pretty but doesn't have the prerequisite discretion when leaving my room in the early hours.

Dreadful traffic coming to my club this lunch time. My carriage was stuck behind a rag and bone man all the way up Pall Mall.

My man, Coltrane, is a wizard pugilist. It came in really handy last night when the decidedly furious Earl of Wessex arrived home early.

My physician ordered I rest for 2 weeks on account of my ailment. I've got some cream and a letter excusing me from all my responsibilities.

Oh to be in London during the autumn. I will be back in a fortnight but currently I'm stuck in Martinique resolving my father's rum affairs.

I've deliberated long and hard but I've come to a conclusion. I know the Vicar won't approve, but what the heck, I'm dressing to the right.

I've had my trunk since my first day at prep, when I was 7. Since then it's travelled round the world 3 times and scaled Everest twice.

I won a highland estate in a drunken game if cribbage and I've no idea what to do with it.

This morning I was in bed waiting for my butler to bring me my tea and paper when I suddenly realised I was in Lady Perry's bed! My memory.

Lord Hull was drunk in the Crab and Goose last night. He offended everyone, even the usually affable Earl of Crewe, who pulled a face.

Top Christmas tip: if you find yourself in Haiti over the festive period, look up Miss Angelica in the Temple Bar and drink the local rum.

Lord Goodge is a stern chap with a bad disposition. He carries his knobkierie with him at all times and often brandishes it with venom!

I was delayed in Jamaica on my return to London this month. I would strongly advise you seek out a trip that delays you in Jamaica.

Sometimes I drink gin and behave badly. Sometimes I drink gin as an excuse to behave badly.Sometimes I behave badly, and no gin is involved.

Lord Carling called me a good time Charlie last night at The Crown.I had to remind him I visited my plantation in Martinique twice last year

Encountered this strange contraption in the gents of The Dog & Duck yesterday. Blew my wee right back at me. I can't see them catching on.

The vicars sermon this week was a riot.Lord Black & I couldnt breathe for laughing as we debated the merits of sobriety over a bottle of gin

My father said I couldn't survive on a diet of gin alone. After 4 days of trying he was proved right and I succumbed to a bag of salted nuts