Gay Page #2

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I hate those hacks and

I think it's horrible for you.

Darling, I forgave you, didn't I?

I just don't want it to happen again.

I've told you a thousand

times:
I'm sorry, OK?

OK. Now stop it.

It makes me so insecure.

OK, deal. I'll never mention it again.

Over, finito, schluss.

You belong to me and

no one else, understood?

So, little Cher, Daddy will look

good in his ironed shirt, won't he?

I'll iron yours, too, in a minute.

But first, musica di tango.

Lift up your paws.

May I have this dance?

Who's that? Who is that?

Daddy. It's Daddy. Yes.

Don't you think that this

makes me look far too sexy?

Darling, you've got

shaving cream on your ear.

And I'd better help you with those

buttons. If you didn't have me...

Then I'd be completely lost.

- That's right.

Don't you want to wear the other one?

- No, this is just fine.

Yes, you're right, it is.

Yes, but I don't know what to wear.

- Darling, what you have on is perfect.

I see Beverly Hills, a large,

heart-shaped swimming pool...

I'm a film star,

you're a top producer.

And Cher sitting on Cher's lap.

And mega-contracts each week,

champagne parties, Madonna...

Well-filled swimming trunks...

- L.A. Here we come.

Yeah. I feel like going out.

- Yes, it's been a whole four days.

That's far too long.

- Yes.

I'll give Snoes a call.

- Poor little Snoes.

The poor thing. Let's

find her a man tonight.

Yeah, right, in a gay bar.

Snoes speaking.

- Hello, my little fag-hag.

Hello, darling. You always call when

I'm doing something rather private.

Always? What on earth are you doing?

- Well, I'm shaving my bush.

I'm shaving it all off.

No more hair for me.

That's disgusting, Snoes.

- What do you mean?

I'm not too keen on mussels.

Are you coming to April tonight?

April?

- 11 o'clock. And look sexy.

See you later.

Three tequila rose, please.

- Sure.

What are you doing now?

- Listen, Val...

I'm editing a wonderful programme

about starving Africa.

Great. You know, Mickey, I wish

I was as thin as the people there.

Come on, Val, please...

- Well, why not?

You'll get there.

- Hey, Max.

Hi, Valerie.

- What a coincidence.

I tried to reach you,

but it's impossible.

Well, the least important people

are always reachable, I say.

You're looking good.

- Thanks.

Are you here with Pascal?

- Yes. Listen, I'm off over there...

Remember me when

you do your next production.

Of course, darling.

- OK.

What did that b*tch want?

- They all want their faces on TV.

Turn your phone off tonight, darling.

- You are being strict.

I think this will be a wonderful

evening. How about you, Snoes?

Yes, but I've got an itchy twat

and I can't scratch it here, can I?

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