Oh, OK then...
After the crash, Diana is floating around in heaven, waving at the proles and continuing her campaigning against landmines, in an attempt to make the kingdom sit up and do something about all the one-winged angels floating about (somewhat lopsidedly).

Some years pass, and she sees a familiar figure wandering around. ‘Blimey’, says HRH, ‘if it isn’t the Queen Mum’. And off she floats across the cloud to talk to her.

‘So they finally got round to you then’? Diana asks, smiling coyly through her voluminous fringe.

The Queen Mum gives Diana a somewhat withering look. ‘Comes to us all, you know. Some sooner than others. By the way, I see that the saintly image you projected on earth hasn’t followed you here’.

Diana, a bit bemused by this remark, replies ‘I’m not sure I follow you’.

‘Your halo’, says the fishbone-swallowing old dear, ‘it seems to have slipped’.

Diana’s eyes narrowed at this. Her brow visibly furrowed, and her wings ruffled in annoyance.

‘That isn’t a halo’ she retorted, ‘it’s a fucking steering wheel’!
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 23 Jan 2008, 15:39, Reply)