Heather Mills: By the one who knows her best

Naturally, the Sunday papers are lining up to have a bit of a kickaround with Heather Mills, lead by the Mail On Sunday which invites us into her secret world:

Heather is demanding and gives out orders, sometimes clicking her fingers, and she can be abrupt and grand.

She'd say to Lizzie: "Can you get me soup?" or "Can you get me water?"

Once she said: "Can you rearrange my bras in colour co-ordination?"

And who is it who is letting us see this glimpse of Heather's life.

Erm...

Someone who'd pop in from time to time to do her nails.

It's interesting that a woman who makes her living by filing other people's nails should be surprised that her clients are the sort of people who have staff and don't like performing simple tasks for themselves.

Why has the manicurist suddenly revealed these details to the Mail On Sunday, though? Oh, yes, but besides the cheque:

I was meant to see Heather last Saturday but she texted me to cancel saying, "I'll call you when it's all over."

It's been a pleasure to know her and I wish her well. But if I don't see her again it won't be a great loss. She always kept me waiting and never apologised.

Hell, it seems, hath no fury like a nail-painter scorned.