My multi-culti Waltons household swells further

IN order to write another book without the aid of an advance, and to raise expensive children without the aid of a co-parent, my household is stuffed with paying guests, and is starting to resemble a United Colours of Benetton advert. Except scruffier.

The latest on the palette arrive shivering from Panama City, with expensive luggage and no English. It is as though Bambi and her sister have turned up on the doorstep, utterly bewildered, having never left Panama before. “Where’s Panama?” ask my expensive children.

“Hats, cigars, canal – Google it,” I tell them.