One random comedian, eight random questions; it's the ultimate test of funny person and fate. This week we're joined by a class act, Lady Clementine, aided and abetted by her consummate lady in waiting, Rosalie Minnitt (inventor of the Minnitt Waltz? Probably).

Anyway, the good lady is currently girding her loins for a run at the Soho Theatre, having returned from a successful sojourn in Edinburgh. Soho is not her regular haunt, naturally, but she rises above it.

"Expect to be dazzled, amazed, confused, confounded and irreversibly changed," says Lady C, who concedes that "I do my very best to avoid Soho and the brash mob of the metropolitan elite. Obnoxious theatres, crass city boys and hapless tourists - it's all very gauche."

But the show must go on.

"I am a patron of the arts, after all, and a lady of any standing must do what she can for her community. I was also offered an awful lot of gold to do it."

The carat and stick approach. Lady Clementine, your Random 8 await.

Who is - or was - your most interesting relative?

I have 67 sisters, each as bland as the last so it's clear that personality does not appear to run in the family. I am clearly an exception to the rule. Having said that, by all accounts my dear Uncle Dewey was a curious sort of chap.

I never met him myself but he's become somewhat of a folkloric figure around these parts. Dewey was known for his exceptional bouldering abilities - he could scale any castle, any wall, any structure with superhuman ease. Give him a vertical surface, he was off, addicted to the climb, stuck to stone like a gallant lizard.

Some say he went years without ever even touching the ground. His bouldering fame grew far and wide, and some say that Dewey, paid in chalk, became the eyes and ears of the English military. At least that's what people say.

What's the best thing you've ever bought?

My Pegasus, Ian.

Which place you've visited was the biggest anti-climax?

The Annual Pearl Clutching Gala. Mama was so desperate to hold onto her title for the sixteenth year running. Talented though Mama is, this year's crop of hopefuls were unlike anything we've ever seen in this county - and the likes of which we may never see again.

Sweating, swearing mamas contorted and convulsed as they wrestled with their pearly shackles. It sounds rather amusing but it's a tedious, rather violent, grotesque affair. 0/10 would not recommend it to a friend. Plus, I hate to see Mama win.

What's the most extravagant thing you've ever done?

I suppose summoning my old seamstress via a séance in order to dress for a ball may be considered extravagant in certain circles.

You can't do anything these days without some slander spewing from the printing press. Personally, I think that's a perfectly reasonable measure to take and Amelia really was such an extraordinary talent. She, along with the spirits of some fashion interns, styled me from the other side and I have to say, I've truly never looked better. In fact, the look almost snagged me a man but, alas, just after our first dance he got crushed by a falling chandelier.

Singledom is a curse. I suppose it could be worse. I could be poor. Or someone who refers to her lady friends as 'pals.' Ghastly and wrong. What am I? A socialist?

Do you have a signature dance move?

This is a vulgar question but, if you insist, it's WAP.

What's your favourite mode of transport?

Airship. I am also partial to a very, very, VERY brisk walk.

Your proudest moment?

This episode features the dreaded Miss Satsuma Legoland Windsor. My arch nemesis and long term rival. Famously, we used to be best friends, but what started out as a childhood friendship soon descended into a bitter blood feud. I mean, frankly, she's foul. It goes: divorcees, actresses, Americans, Satsuma Legoland Windsor.

Miss Melatonin's Emporium was having a flash sale and, as such, every woman in the county was there. Women came over hill and under hill, flocking to town looking to rebrand with a swish new hat. Satsuma has all the fashion sense of a Benedictine monk so naturally the hat she had her beady eye on wasn't anything special. I find taxidermy rather disturbing but she wanted that hat and so I wanted that hat.

She crashed into the emporium and made a beeline for the monstrosity but, blinded by her capitalist lust, she soon got caught up in a ferocious melee of red-faced ladies wrestling over some custom cravats. This bought me some time. I snapped into action, hitched up my petticoats and crowd surfed across the bustling shoppers, wrenched the hat from her claws and plonked it atop my head.

I chucked a slab of mince on the ground to distract her chaperone who lunged for the bait without blinking, then, as fast as a whippet, I shoved Satsuma into the back room and barricaded the door shut. How long she was there I can hardly say but some hapless fool must have no doubt freed her as she was spotted larging it around town, swigging from a milk churn that very same afternoon.

By that time though all the best bargains had been snapped up and Miss went home bonnet-less. Better luck next time, Sats.

What's the worst thing in your wardrobe?

That hat. There's so many figurines, baubles and creatures piled on top that I have had to wear a special neck brace to support the vast world atop my bouffant. Though it reminds me of my victory, it's a cumbersome beast and, truthfully, it's riddled with bed bugs.