The two ladies who drove 20-odd miles to deliver emergency dog food supplies to Liz-fucking-Jones after she complained about her utter poverty must have been a little surprised at what met them. Where was the mud-floored hovel in which their heroine sat sobbing and shivering in the corner? Where was the dog-eaten furniture and where were the dank, mouldering, excrement-littered rooms? And what was that shiny, stainless steel fridge doing in the corner when we’d been assured by dear Liz that she hadn’t owned one for two years?
The truth can now be told, and it’s not going to impress the 4,000 people who allegedly sent the pretend pauper donations from their disability allowances and pensions.
Upcott Farm is now for sale for a cool £1.9million, and the estate agent’s details make for interesting reading: ‘An attractive farmhouse in a stunning position with uninterrupted views over a private valley together with an exquisite recently renovated barn conversion completed to a high standard.
‘Large courtyard with original stables and tack room, gardens, paddocks, broadleaved woodland, private lake with fly-fishing and jetty, professionally laid outdoor manegeâ€¦
‘Upcott Farm â€¦ has recently been improved by the addition of a new bathroom upstairs and Black Mountain sheep’s wool installed in the loft for insulation. There is also a brand new boiler, oil tank and log burner.
‘The Hayloft has not only been converted to all the latest building regulations, but also includes solar panelling on the roof, hidden cabeling (sic), surround sound and an insulated underfloor heating system.”
So hardly the horrific hovel we were led to expect.
I know we all elaborate for journalistic effect when we write columns, but where does poetic licence end and receiving money under false pretences begin? The previously gullible readers of this utter fraudster might now have an opinion.