Today’s multiple-choice question: Heather Mills is: A) delusional B) crazy C) a stalker D) a megalomaniacal narcissist E) a horrible mother F) a whiner G) all of the above. If you chose G, congratulations, you’re reading yet another story about Heather Mills’ insanity. Just in the past few months we’ve gotten to hear Heather: complain about her $33.6 million divorce settlement (“we earned it together, I worked my butt off doing the tours and everything”); wishing karmic cancer on her enemies; and making sure everyone knows Paul McCartney’s youngest listens to the Beach Boys, not the Beatles.

Heather’s latest is two-fold. First, it seems Heather might be stalking her ex-husband, Paul and his new girlfriend Nancy Shevell. Sources tell the Daily Mail that Paul is “annoyed” because Heather keeps showing up at events that Paul and Nancy are already attending, and because Paul thinks Heather is “treading on his turf” with the whole vegan-restaurant thing. And don’t even get me started on the vegan-brainwashing Heather’s pulling on Beatrice:

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Despite their acrimonious divorce, Heather Mills can’t keep away from Sir Paul McCartney. The former model has infuriated Sir Paul, 67, by jetting to the Hamptons where he is on holiday with his American girlfriend Nancy Shevell, 47.

‘Heather turned up at some big social functions which annoyed Paul,’ says a source.

The former Beatle is also said to be irritated that Heather is ‘treading on his turf’ by wanting to open a vegetarian restaurant in New York while he is promoting ‘Meat-Free Monday’ in the US.

Since her divorce, selfless Heather has become a full-time animal rights campaigner, tireless in her devotion to the cause. She has opened a vegan cafe, VBites, in East Sussex and even turned her five-year-old daughter with Sir Paul into a mini campaigner.

In an interview with ES magazine she explained how Beatrice had tried to convert fellow guests to veganism on a recent holiday to the south of France.

‘Beatrice questions everybody who eats animals,’ Heather revealed.

‘When we were in the south of France, there was a buffet for kids, and by the end of the week no one would sit near us because she would go over and say, “Why are you eating that cow’s bottom?” or “Oh, look at that little shrimp with little eyes.”‘