Our Sandrine


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.