ugly jill

Lounging in a deckchair on the old
rickety wooden pier in her favourite
pair of pink fisherman's trousers with

her pink sunglasses on, she soaks up a
Heineken-sunrise. Beneath her the sea
breathes and fades in and out, throwing

white confetti upon the rocks; Hopper
makes a mental note. Looking into her
hand-mirror, she pauses like Pinter, then

pouts, then adds a touch here and there to a
face that’d shatter the house of a thousand
mirrors, but she doesn't care. No! because

she’s got it all! Everything! A champagne
world of Haute Couture - her pink! (fake!)
pink! (fake!) pink! Louis Vuitton handbag.