Oh, I am most terrible sorry... caught up there for a moment in thoughts of Arabian stallions and rare Scottish beef. So like me to be distracted by such carnal concerns. But one day I shall tell you of my times amongst the Arabian Knights, when I stood underneath the dawning sky of a thousand miles in burnoose and jilbab, and saw the two thousand horses of the Abdulaziz storm towards me like the clouds themselves taken from heaven. Or I might tell you of my time with the clan MacInnes (distant relatives on my mother's side) on the West coast of Scotland where I learnt to appreciate a man in a kilt for the first time... So many, many stories my sweet.

But Dotty has been busy preparing a few new missives for the Netribution table. I of course only returned from the Maldives but late, and almost my first port of call was the flourishing Evgenny for THAT dress. Soon my decisions regarding cut and colour etc will appear for you to relax with... But thankyou for your compliments... Of course the dress for the Oscars will be entirely different again. Shall I see you there? So sorry to have been too busy for the Savoy... I rarely go there these days since a liaison with a descendent of its much grander saviours went a little pear shaped, as they say in the vernacular (though how pears can be as considered disastrous, painful and entirely regettable I do not know... but I am sure he will recover one day).

But perhaps we can meet at the Governer's Ball after? I doubt that my table will be near yours at the awards... that would require too much genuine organisational skill for the Awards team. I will stay with LA Governer but brief, I always mnake a point of collecting my little chocolat Uncle Oscar and then dash away to a more select party afterwards. Bring a mnask and I may be able to get you in...

Till then my sweet Scot

Dottyx

Honey Button, Enchante! I would be delighted to have you accomodate me for the Governor's Ball. I will call my people and have thenm pack my mask immediately. Alas I have business in LA that will keep me there for a day or two longer than even I like - being something of a straight talker, I hate the sycophancy that goes on, as you will understand my sweet...

But I am sure we will be able to get it togther for the shortest time, at least. Let me get you another Honey, Button, to warm you before you have to brave this freezing weather. Let me offer up a toast. To the Oscars my sweet, and may you stun the beautiful people into submission....

My Dearest James

I write to apologise for my behaviour at the Governers ball... simply inexcusable. Had I known that the tensile stength of tri-weaved electric cable was so little I would never have attempted my best Johnny Weissmuller impression. Oh the blushes on my cheeks... becoming bruises by the next day... And as for drinking to pain to my sham friends through the Governer's wife's Mahnolo... oh the inglory!

I am hoping though that you can clear up where I might have acquired those delightful yet head-aching gaudy Christmas candy canes that hung, strung on dental floss, from my hotel room's ceiling. Did we visit the docks again... oh my head!!!

But peace. Back now in grey old London, let me buy you some Scotch mist to ease any divisions my athletic drinking may have caused.

I will stick to something less alcoholic, Dr Antonovian's orders.

Qu'elle Horreur...

Honey Button you have nothing to reproach yourself for and your hospitality was exceptional. Your pretend modesty I can understand - we had both had a great deal to drink earlier in the evening, but I have to say, I have rarely experienced so much enjoyment in just one night. You have such boundless energy and clearly like to play!

I'm still in recovery from some of the experiences of that night. Some I may never recover from - in fact I know I won't.

I thought I had been to most places and done most things in my life, but that game of candysticks you invented while gazing at the bedroom ceiling of your suite was simply amazing.I have never seen confectionary and dental floss used so creatively - and not just creatively!

I guess I must have imbibed more freely than I should, because I thought it was just bad luck on your part that you couldn't manage to get as many candy sticks hooked over the dental floss strings as me.

Being rewarded like that every time I landed "a hooker" I think you called it was very pleasant Honey Button, delightful in fact. It seemed like you were determined that I should win every time in every way. But then came the forfeits for the losing tosses! Quite exhausting. Sheer excitement kept me going. I hardly noticed that the forfeits and rewards were exactly the same! Very cleverly engineered sweetie, a bit like the game we finished up with - Honeysticks. I was amazed at what you could manage to do with a candy walking stick. I felt like I had led a sheltered life until the Governor's Ball.

We must do it again - and this time I will decide the rules. You got far too much of your own way last time. You'll be getting too spoiled if I let you get away with that much again.

You are quite right about the Egyptian cotton sheets by the way - even before you insisted on calling me Marcus Antonius and dressing me with them like a toga, pretending that you were Cleopatra. She was reputedly insatiable you know, but not nearly as attractive as you wearing a veil. I can see you have spent a few Arabian nights very effectively.

God, that bell hop's face when he wheeled in the champagne breaklfast! As soon as you turned to him and said "Et Tu Brute" - he was off like a rabbit out of a hole. I think he must have been on the bus going the opposite way because you certainly scared him!!

You don't scare me though. I'll play Honeysticks with you Honey Bun any old time and place you like. Where would you like?

Honey Bun, what on earth has happened to you? You don't take my calls and your answering service now says you are uncontactable. The flowers I sent around came back marked "not known" and no one seems to have seen you since the Governor's Ball (except me of course!)

Surely you cannot have had a spell of bad conscience?? I mean, we are both old ebnough to know better perhaps, but then if we all took notice of that there would be so little fun left in the world, don't you think? Dammit, between consenting adults these things shouldn't become a problem anyway.

I am becoming more and more anxious about you sweetie. It is not like you to go off leaving even your answering service tongue tied for an excuse. Is something going on I should know about? I hope you have not taken up with Bill Goldman once again! He finds it hard even to raise an eyebrow these days, so I can never see the point.

Come on Honey Button. Call me back and at least let me know what has happened to you. Please put old Jamie out of his misery.

My God, what will I tell them at Cannes when they ask me what has happened to you after the night of the Governor's Ball.
We could be the talk of the Croisette!

Come on lassie, dinna be sae privy tae yersel. Whit's wi ye? Call me. Jamie x

I saw you muttering into your glass there good sir and thought I could be so bold as to sit besides you.

garcon - a toast, marmelade and tea, please, and none of those damned coffee spoons.


Ah I sympathise with you, I really do. I don't believe you are the first man to echo his wassail within these grubby walls for one such as the portly princess of Picadilly Circus.

But perhaps, my dear man, her silence is a verbal fumbling, a lexical stumbling in the glare and glint of a gilded wit such as yours. where upon there is little to salvage from the governors ball, asides some dignity, your sporran, and the hotel bill (5 figures? How sir, how?).

And now in this long breath, held by the siilent watchers waiting to see how this story unfolds, she waits for you to blink, and twice you do.

And now as she calls 'pon the muses to enguild her response, with your twice blink swinging the balance of the furies favour back towards her door perhaps we should go then, you and I, to the small room at the back of this pub where I believe there is the premiere of Leanne Smith's new film, Viral, and let her join us if, and it is a delicate thread of an if, she will muster something sufficient to say.


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'as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen'<br><br>Post edited by: prufrock, at: 2006/04/24 13:41