On the face of it, LK is a mid blue denim midi skirt of a human, an own-brand bag of salted crisps of a person, a Mr Kipling processed vanilla cake (individual serving) sort of woman. A Boots meal deal in human form, if you will.
But underneath this banal sugary scraping of a mediocre coating, (and look into her shiny terrifying eyes to locate this feeling), I feel personally there lurks within her the horrifying essence of some sort of baby's-arm twisting, school toilet door shoving, smiling with all of her teeth and gums out directly into the mirror in a dark hotel room alone whilst making a hissing noise, sort of "slug poisoner and talker-overer of sweet elderly people" kind of woman. Sinister.
I reckon she held a hamster increasingly too tightly in her manicured pudgy adorable little hand, til it popped, whilst trilling Scottishly about the cute wee feller, as the hamster took it's last mortal breath. She then somehow absorbed it's life essence. That's how she keeps going. Soul vacuum.
I reckon she would steal from children's party bags. I reckon she'd make dimply apple cheeks whilst throwing dog poo bags into her neighbours garden. I reckon she would refuse to jump someone's dead-batteried car off in a Morrisons carpark. Like I said, sin..is...terrrr. (Scottish accent).
I don't watch her though so I could be wrong. Merely my thoughts on the juddering implications of her bonny eyes and smile.