Special Guest Blogger: Nell Gwyn

I was  an X-Rated Cinderella. Born in abject poverty, i became a professional actress and deciding not to mess around with the lower income bracket, sleeping with a number of famous men including King Charles II.
I started out life in a filthy back alley, my father died in a debtor’s jail and it wasn’t easy for women to get respectable employment back in the 1600s so my mother turned to the oldest profession in the book and i worked a lot of odd jobs from hawking fruits on the streets to serving booze at my mother’s brothel where i learnt a thing or two which i put to good use to catch Charles number 1, the head actor at a theatre and he got me work as an actress.
In the good old days, Kings conducted themselves with formality and decorum, and were probably never naked. As it turns out, there has always been ridiculous moments from every Royal, it just gets forgotten and the recently restored King Charles was no exception but before him was another Charles, Charles Sackville who gave me an allowance of £100 so she could leave acting which i did and then he dumped me but then came the third Charles, Charles II of England.  
Ah, the nobility, our betters. We've seen how they roll all genteel, with their cucumber sandwiches and pantaloons and the King took a shine to my fellow actress Moll Davis but i slipped some laxatives into her drink just before she was scheduled to 'attend' to King Charles and after that stinky mess was cleared up, he came to me and asked what it would take for me to be his mistress. I cheekily said £500 a year, he agreed and he took me out to dinner.
We got on very well and i was always the life of the party and one time, on the way back from a meal an anti-Catholic mob surrounded our carriage and began shouting that i was a Catholic whore, so i popped my head out of the carriage window and assured the mob, 'Good people, you are mistaken. I am the Protestant whore!' The crowd cheered and allowed us to carry on our way.
Another time my servant was having a heated argument with another man and when i asked what all the fuss was about he replied that had dared to me a whore. I replied: 'I am so find something else to fight about' and it was that kind of quick wit which made me a national treasure and why when i became pregnant, Charles upped my allowance to £9000 a year because unless you pay top money you'll never get top people in the top job flat on their backs with their legs in the air, you'll just get mediocre.
After years of being Charles II’s favorite, a new, raven haired mistress, Louise de Kérouaille, came on the scene and we hated each other, i called her 'Squintabella' because of her piggy eyes, she called me 'an orange selling wench' but we did team up one time against another mistress, Hortense Mancini, squintabella bashed Hortense’s head on a bed post until she had a black eye and i let it drop that she was having an affair with the Prince of Monaco and was also sleeping with Anne Lennard, one of Charles II’s daughters.
Bonking both the father and the daughter, and then another royal on the side meant she was soon told to get the heck out of his palace and i was back as the number 1 mistress until one day the King got out of bed and suffered a terrible seizure and withing days he had died.
The Royal court gave me a pension of £1,500 per year and i went back to my theatrical rooots until i suffered a stroke which left me completely bedridden and finally killed me, apparently caused by late-stage syphilis, a last gift from my Royal lover.