Written by Quorum of One
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Thursday, 20 March 2008

image for The End: Mills milks McCartney for £24 million
Her parting words to her ex were, "You won't see ME either, Honey Pie!"

It was a long and winding road, but the Heather Mills-Paul McCartney divorce is finally final. She's a woman and she's leaving home. So how come? Another girl? Some other guy? It looks like a case of "she said, she said." "I should have known better," lamented the former Mrs. McCartney.

"Please! Please! Me fortune's not that big," cried Sir Paul, lapsing into the Liverpudlian argot of his boyhood when he heard the amount of the settlement. "Hey -- 'dyou'd a thought she'd get £24 million? I'll have to pick up any penny layin' in the street from now on. No more silk designer pajamas for me -- I'll have to sleep in the altogether now."

As it turned out, Ms. Mills, a blonde who looks less English than Norwegian, would insist on representing herself during the trial, depicting the former Beatle as one mean mister. Must her direst secrets be revealed, though? Apparently the judge thinks so, because he's going to release the full text of his decision and Heather will just have to carry that. Wait, though -- it still must induce what her four-year-old daughter calls a "sunking" feeling.

Perhaps desiring to buy herself lots of fancy foods, Mills seemed determined to deplete her ex's assets, which include precious metals and stock in oil drilling operations, to the max. Wells, silver… "Ham, 'er favorite meat," the former model's Cockney mother commented, "is very expensive." After the taxman gets through with her, though, she'll yearn for the night before, wondering if they could have come together any time at all before the fateful date.

"Rip 'er off!" one fan yelled to Paul outside the courthouse, apparently finding the figure too high. "Something," McCartney complained, "needs fixing." "A-hole!" Mills muttered. Now she's free as a bird and can get back to getting better in her new house that her daughter Beatrice refers to, because it's opulent but not quite as opulent as their old one, as the "golden slum".

Burrs from a thistle plant by the front gate were caught in the little child's stockings when she appeared for the final hearing. She attended the proceedings accompanied by her half-brother Russell Smith, to the delight of the assembled journalists. When one of them asked, "Hey little girl -- who's your half-brother?" he piped up, "I am!"

"'The Wall'," Russ replied, when another reporter asked the name of his favorite Pink Floyd album.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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