Twenty six hours in a crate in the bowels of a Thai Airlines Jumbo. I've spent better twenty-six hour slabs of my life.
So has Barbra.
So traumatised was she that she burst into a Gloria Estafan medley.
I threw up.
And there was my Kodak Box Brownie.
Next stop:
6 comments:
you are such a show-off, dermott. like the time you 'read' lord jim in the crib version to impress that girl! and if you mention my singing again, i'll see you choke on an oleander!
Yeah yeah, Barbra, you illiterate bint. Learn to punctuate and use a shift key before you show your testa brutta around here again.
If you'd a lick of sense, you'd have taxied immediately to centro Milano for some carpaccio di manzo. But I'll bet that's not what you did.
How about some nice pork bones soon?
I'm not in Milano yet. Blogwise. You'll have to wait to find out.
Dermot,
Now that you're becoming famous (although not as famous as me in Cortona!), you might want to consider getting some new head shots done... getting in touch with your feminine side is so passe' and makes you look half-fruit. I can recommend some great photographers (all arrive with doggy treats, chicken snacks and assistants to give belly rubs between shoots... hard work having your picture taken you know!).
Passé? Half-fruit? Listen, Oscar. If and when I want advice from a hamster, I'll try a pet shop.
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