Every tramp desires at some lonesome equinox to be adopted by a devastatingly beautiful Jewish Princess and taken away to her luxurious abode to be soaped and scrubbed and prettified. Bedecked in a tailored dinner jacket he would then consume heavenly morsels from her lavish dinner table, occasionally having to peer around the fanciful candelabra at his host to swap a few eloquent bon mots.

It was not to be so for Mister Tramp. Instead I encountered mine while slaving as a dishwasher in a commune on the far reaches of the Mediterranean sea. She was not a traditional princess, having cropped hair in the manner fashionable some decades ago. However my pique must have been aroused by the nickname she went by among my fellow labourers. In Spanish it was 'Golden Pussy', although I have a feeling this was a toned down translation. I am not sure where I first saw her although no doubt it was while I was assassinating cockroaches in the dining room. For this task I discovered that repeated bashes with a heavy broom was the most suitable method. I was staring into the satanic face of one such insect as its last shivers wracked its spiny legs when I glimpsed up and saw her gaily walking through the hall. I determined to track her down.

And so it was one night that I somehow learnt she frequently occupied a community hall for the purposes of operatic exhalation. I dwelt outside one evening, and there then emerged a deathly wail, so beautiful, so melancholic and full of anguish that I knew it was her. I came up with a fiendish plan to wait outside, using a local dog as an excuse. Endless fun could be had throwing it sticks to be retrieved and then wrestling said stick away from the slavering hound on the grass.

At some point I saw her walking down the path. I proffered a conversational gambit based on the animal and proceeded to try and engage her in further discussion. It did not go well initially, as I was transfixed by her groin region. Not because it was golden, but because she was wearing jeans that displayed the crotch buttons openly, without a concealing modesty flap. Suffice to say I charmed her with my drawing ability and boasts of genius, despite my rather slovenly appearance. It ended with a fond farewell and so I retired to bed, satisfied that battle had been joined.

Of course it ended promptly as the next morning she appeared outside my workplace with a small pet, as if waiting for me to renew our acquaintance. Thinking I would let her stew in fond admiration of my cucumber chopping technique, I waited some 20 minutes before strolling outside to the bench where she had perched. Predictably she had vanished. From that moment on she affected to ignore me at every opportunity. Ah, I thought, the princess sleeps. No longer was I the pea beneath her mattress.