Our Sandrine

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Sandrine was an unusual child. She had four arms. She still has.

 

Sandrine Urvoy was just six weeks old when we found her under a Waitrose shopping trolley and we’ve raised her as our own. She’s grown up to be a bonny, strong lass with an unnatural penchant for bouncy castles and, inexplicably,  a French accent.

Sandrine has magical powers in the tent-putting-up-and-down department and she’s usually covered in a fine layer of flour. We go to Sandrine when we need a comforting stranglehold or a rude word in French. 

Sandrine is the Dirty Carol least likely to not be French.

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