Disability Bitch vs flat shoes

Not immediately disability-related, you may think, but from their conclusion allow me to extrapolate my own: I would wager that a fair portion of disabled women are less likely to wear sexy heels because of dodgy balance. Consequently, we presumably must have less sex. Yes? Disaster!

I've been saying for a long while that I HATE FLAT SHOES, and now I've been proven right - again. Just call me Disability Bitch, PhD.

In principle, I've always been a supporter of high heels. Think about it. As types of footwear go, they at least put disabled and non-disabled women on a level, as they render even the most Amazonian and able female slightly mobility impaired.

What marvellous inventions they are! And now we know that they up your chances of jiggy jiggy too, what's a red-blooded Bitch to do but slip them on?

As someone who can't even balance on her own two feet without a walking stick for support, teetering on six inch heels renders me basically immobile. But no matter. Haven't I always said that walking is overrated, and like any right-thinking cripple, I'd take sex over mobility any day? For that reason, I'm going to become a wheelchair user rather than a hobbler so I can wear heels and benefit from their amazing passion-busting properties without falling over. I doubt I'll ever bother walking again. I'm waiting on a call back from wheelchair services - I know I can walk if I want to, but quality sex is a human rights issue.

In the meantime, I've built a sedan chair and hired two dowdy flat-shoed women to carry it around. I've got a double seat. It's very snug!

Readers, in the interest of public decency I can't go into detail about what has happened in my romantic life since my change of footwear. Obviously I'm expecting a visit from Ashley Cole, but isn't every woman in the country? Suffice to say I'm looking forward to Johnny Depp's next visit to the UK, and that Posh Spice had better watch out because David Beckham is popping over next week for a slice of my Spanish omelette. I'm an excellent chef.

Still, there's room for improvement. Now I've got bespoke heels I'm wondering what other fashion choices might assist me, regardless of their affect on my mobility. I've ordered a corset so tight I'll be barely able to breathe, but I'm not bothered. No one needs an unimportant element like oxygen when they're living through their nether regions.

The time has come! Heather Mills fights for her share of the McCartney fortune this week. And she's representing herself in court. Obviously. It's a closed hearing. I am gutted.

People, people. Get off Facebook and get into the heels. It's the way forward. You can be my virtual friend here, but please note that I don't do cyber sex.