PREVIOUSLY: Daisy helps her sister Rosemary by taking her place at a book signing. But is then arrested in Rosemary's place. Things have never been easy. But this is a new low...

            What am I doing here? Halfway up a mountain on a Greek Island dressed as Amy Johnson?         I have never wanted to go to bl**dy Greece. Or dress up as an aviator. Even a great one. And I'm terrified and furious at the same time? How could this happen to me?

            'Just calm down. Don't be a Crazy Daisy... Try to answer your own questions and you'll feel...'

            JUST YOU SHUT YOUR GOB! SENSIBLE DAISY!! OH...  Sorry. I'll be sensible.

            And to be honest I'm not near half-way up Mount Bathos. I've no head for heights. And I hate flying. But Carl says old-style Aviator is my best disguise for this place. Where...

            NO WOMEN ARE ALLOWED!

            Yes, really. The Mt Bathos Monks who run the place are very strong on that. NO WOMEN. Are they scared they'll catch chattiness from us. Or even periods? Sorry, Chaps... Don't mean to be rude. But I am frightened and I am angry. What was I saying? Oh yes...

            Just last week...

            I was arrested!

            In public!!

            For fraud!!!

            Two days before my wedding!!!!

            All set up by my own Sister!!!!!

            IT'S TRUE!!!!!!

            I'm a shy person but I've always wanted to use six exclamation marks. Now I wish I didn't have to... But wouldn't You be angry and scared? Don't all Brides secretly fear the same things? Will He (or She) turn up? Has She (or He) changed their mind? Will the Shop take the Gown(s) back? What about the presents? Will people point at me in the street? Have I read too many Victorian novels?        

            But Fiancé Carl is lovely. More about him later. Right now he's up on the ridge scanning the mountain paths with binoculars for my sister Rosemary.

            BECAUSE THIS IS ALL HER FAULT. IT MUST BE. IT MUST BE!

            “There must be some mistake,” I tell the Detective who is arresting me.

            His eyes say, Well, I've never heard that one before!

            “But I'm not Rosemary Trumpington. She's my sister.”

            He glances at the Pen I have used to sign and dedicate 18 books as 'Rosemary' in the last 78 minutes. Even my silly Pen has turned traitor and testifies against me.

            (I could be angry about this too. I've written books. But I never knew bl**dy Rosemary did. Plus it seems to be selling well. )

            Without a word the Detective rotates the promotional AUTHOR'S PHOTO on the desk till it stares right back at me. What a rotter he is!

            “Ok,” I admit. “That looks like me but I am not Her. Don't you see? I was just helping her out. Is that a kind of fraud?”

            “Not for me to say,” he says, sounding uncannily like Nick Robinson. “But you might be complicit. It depends where she is right now. But we'd best leave that to the lawyers.”

            He gives me a long steady stare.

            I'm tempted to say “Yer've got me bang to rights, Guv'nor! I confess I did it all.” But I can't detect a sense of humour. He says, “Can we go now, Miss Whoever you are right now?”

            I'm still a Miss! How long until...

            So we go.

            The patient people in the queue don't yet know they've missed out on buying a Collector's Piece.

            Some of them even wave at the Police Car as we leave. The Car that's been waiting in the outside since I arrived. The only people smiling now are the girl guides keen to scamper into their Hall. And I'm being driven... All the way to London. And Scotland Yard? Then I have an idea...

            “What have you done to our Car!”

            I told them I need a loo. We stop at a service station. WPC goes in with me. She waits outside the door. I'm dangerous. I take a long time. She raps on the door. I rap back. She talks into her wireless. We get back in the car and get in. No one looks at me. The WPC looks out of the window. It's the Driver who looks at me in the mirror and screams. Blood from my forehead is dripping from my nose. He spins the wheel and we're heading for the hard shoulder at speed.

            But we survive.

            And get to London and an underground car park. Another car flashes its lights. I know its waiting for me. I want to run away. But I know it's no good. It's the end of the road. The prison door looms. Knuckles tap on the roof. The passenger door opens.

            “Hello,” says Carl. “What happened to your head?”

            “The Rosemary wig was glued down in places. I had to rip it off. It hurt.”

            So now we are here – Carl and Yours Truly - on Mt Bathos.

            I sit on a rock and try to relax. It's not easy. It's hot. My head itches under the helmet and the rock hurts my bum through the thin London jeans I packed in a hurry. For distraction I scan through Rosemary's book. Even on a good day I'd call it rubbish. “How One Woman Found Her True Path in Life Through Cryptocurrency.” Oh really? Did she? “I gave up hoping to find opportunity around the corner. Instead I banished hope, tamed my own life rhythms, made my own future, and made a fortune. And I'll tell you how I did it...” Oh really?

            It very quickly turns into high gibberish which creates a vocabulary only the Elect can understand. And NORMIES won't . It's all PUMP ING AND DUMPING, FOMO, FUD and much much more. Rosemarie herself is a CRYPTO PRINCESS. Of course she is.

            But you also need to learn a List of  CURRENCIES: BITCON, MUFFINS, RATBATE, ALLOMATLO, CORTYA, IONLAIDY, COBBLERS, FARTHINGALE, SINTACKS...

            And the wacky acronyms. (WACKRONYMS?) ARSY = RC = RACING CERTAINTY. TRUMP = 'THAT RAT UPSET MY PLANS'. ECONOMISE = USE LESS = USELESS!

            My phone vibrates. Carl. Higher up the mountain. I think I see her...

            A line of black robed Monks is coming down the hill path, chanting. You can just see the bald heads under their cowls. Their luxuriant beards – no issue with chin-based hair - flow free in the fresh breeze that has sprung up. Their chanting is a lovely sound.

            But is Rosemary there? Hard to tell. But she can do a deep voice when she needs to

            Carl told me she is hiding out from a gang of rogue Crypto traders as well as the British police and... Oh. I do recognise that walk. The Monks pass in front of me, eyes on the path, ignoring the Aviator.

            They take another path back up the Mountain. As the last one passes I open the bag, take something out and shout “Rosemary, you forgot your wig.”

            The curly blond thing sails through the air and she can't resist catching it. She shouts something rude at me. But would have done better to save her breath. She needs it as she gathers up her robe and runs down the path towards the sea with a horde of furious Monks behind her.

            It's not easy to run in rope sandals.