The Observer made every serious world-renowned journalist ooze thick globs of jealousy from every one of their pores when they landed an interview with the goddess herself, Dame Joan Collins. The Observer sent Sophie Heawood to Joan Collins’ luxurious Beverly Hills palace in the sky to do a long profile on the BIGGEST STAR IN THE WORLD!!! You can read the entire thing here, but of course, the thing that caused me to throw my fly swatter in the trash was Dame Joan saying that she believes her dead sister Jackie Collins, the BIGGEST AND GREATEST LITERARY GENIUS IN THE WORLD FOREVER AND ALWAYS, has been reincarnated as a fly that follows her around the world. And yes, that is a real picture of the opulent fly who Joan believes is Jackie Collins.
After Joan tells Sophie that she doesn’t really read The Observer, she prefers The Telegraph and The New York Times of England that is The Daily Mail, a fly with flawless taste flew around her. Joan thinks that same little fly has joined her on her never-ending Living That Decadent Life Tour around the world, and believes the fly could be her sister who was taken from us way too early in 2015 by that demon smegma trash known as cancer.
“Do you believe that little flies or butterflies or something can be old souls, people that you knew? I have this little fly that comes near me all the time. It’s really strange.”
I think it might be my sister. I know that sounds weird, and I don’t know whether I believe in the afterlife or not. My opinion is still out to lunch about that, but it is weird that wherever I go, at least two or three times a week – wherever I am, France, London, here – this little fly comes. Now maybe it’s because the fruit’s rotting in the kitchen! I don’t know. But anyway…” her voice goes low and familiar and rather sad, “If it is: hello Jack.”
Joan also said that despite the media saying that they hated each other, they were very close and since she was Jackie’s older sister, Jackie looked up to her (who doesn’t?). And Joan misses her very much.
The thing about house flies is that they only live for around a month, but I know that fly experts will agree with me when I say that the Jackie Collins fly lives for eternity thanks to the steady diet of champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries she drinks and nibbles from on the solid gold stool next to Joan’s bathtub. And since the world desperately needs another Jackie Collins novel, Joan should put out paper and an inkwell for the fly. If the fly really is Jackie Collins, she can write another amazingly glamorous novel. And if the fly isn’t Jackie Collins, Joan should release the book anyway. I mean, if Fifty Shades of Grey can become a #1 best seller, the shit and incoherent scratchings of a housefly certainly can.