My God! What a week! Not that I’m complaining. Business cometh and goeth, so when it cometh thou shalt not bloweth in its face, sayeth the man who puts “eth” as a suffix to everything. Eth. Thems the rules, baby cakes (on a slight tangent, what are baby cakes? Are they those bitesize mini-muffins you can get? Or is it the doings of some evil lady in a gingerbread house in the forest?).
Anyway…Beyonce. Her and I go way back. Well, way back to last week in fact. I was a team leader with the wind in my hair and the world at my feet. She was a Diva with massive hair and an ego writing cheques her body had absolutely no problem whatsoever in cashing.
I stood there, marshalling my More! troops when a gust of wind blew the doors of the Echo Arena open when there she was. She looked right into my brown eyes, before telling me that she was crazy in love with me. If I were a boy, rather than a happily married man, I would have crowd-surfed across to her pleading arms. As it was, I had to leave her a broken-hearted girl with a fever, left to mingle with the other single ladies.
Okay, you got me. It’s all fantasy. Well, the part about me being there with More! promotional staff is true. Pretty much everything else is lies. Have I got anything left in the tenuous barrel to suggest that I’m just a beautiful liar?