Bah Humbug

Im not too good at celebrity gala dinners. I start to get riled up as soon as I see the room full of flickering candles and little table displays with fish in and as the people begin to eat I begin to feel ill. Noone can manage friendly word and the atmosphere turns more and more hostile until only the youngest prettiest girl can hold a smile. The men usually turn to the food for comfort and, if theyve any sense, the alcohol but the ladies are fearsome. You can hear them snarling in the corridors like wounded tigresses.
By this point the celebrities are of little interest. Unfortunately now I have to enter this joyless party and listen to the most hated writer, Paulo Alchemist Coelho, accept and give some irrelevant award. Given a half chance Ill nip over to his table, steal is glasses and cover the lenses in tabasco sauce. Cant hurt.