At The Party

At The PartySo Maria and I were at a party last night and I was so wasted that I shouted out to Kissinger in front of everybody there, “HEY, FAT MAN! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO DROP THAT GOD DAMN STUPID GERMAN ACCENT OF YOURS THAT EVERYBODY KNOWS IS FAKE ANYWAY? HATM HATM HATM!!!”

Big mistake. He was sitting on a big leather sofa smoking a stogie, getting blown by these two unbelievably hot Dutch serving wenches – long legs, blond hair, green eyes – and as soon as I said it his face goes red with rage and he starts shaking and his chin starts wobbling and the stogie falls out of his mouth and the poor Dutch girls are screaming because they think he’s taken too much Viagra and is having a heart attack.

And everybody there is going crazy. Rockefeller’s laughing so much he’s doubled up with tears pouring down his face. Rothschild’s choking on some million dollar caviar. And Mandelson the sleaze-bag is trying to film the whole thing on his iPhone and keeps asking the girls to finish Henry off so he can get his money shot and then show it the the Queen later on at Buckingham Castle because he really wants to be Prime Minister of that shitty little country.

I knew my work there was done. Maria and I quietly left the room and walked out onto the balcony, and we stood there counting stars, waiting for the sun to rise. God I love my life.


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