Sunday, October 16, 2005



It was after seeing the movie 'Lethal Weapon 2' that I decided a life in the diplomatic service was for me. Immunity could be useful and I had just been relieved of my previous residence due to a sensory failure of the highest order (not hearing footsteps on staircases will be the death of me). I pulled a couple of strings, greased a few palms and viciously blackmailed high-ranking members of the civil service and ended up as Her Majesty's Ambassador to Britain. My palatial home in London's Regents Park could be described as nothing less than breath-taking and the amount of heroin I could fit into my limousine was astonishing. Alas it all fell apart when a simple remark about Cecil Parkinson masturbating whilst watching' Shoah' resulted in the temporary partitioning of three square miles of Central London and the stripping of my credentials. It was the worst four hours of my life.

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