Ah Dubai, those musty dusty pink streaked sunrises enlivened only by the sound of piling, those wistful hours spent looking out of the taxi window at the stationary traffic on Sheikh Zayed, those sophisticated evening parties spent trying to unclamp the roaming hand of a Baku-based oilman from your perfectly toned arse (Dubai, obsession with frei body kultur because of total lack of anything else to do, cheap labour and more beauticians per capita that anywhere else in the world; equals, unimpeachably pert, toned and moisturized).
And enough booze to fill up the swimming pool at a Norwegian dipsomania convention
Friday morning:
Lisa Lashes: (Australianly) ‘Darlz! Sweetheart! What are we doing?’
LBB: ‘Cheap champagne brunch, the really nice brunch at the Fairmont, expensive but really classy, ok that one possibly not suitable for you two. Moet brunch, Jumeirah Beach Hotel, Yalumba for the dancing?’
JennyF: ‘Yalumba!’
Lisa Lashes: ‘Yalumba!’
Saturday morning
LBB: Was that actually technically illegal? I mean, if I reparked the ferrari before leaving and if I never really meant to steal it, only to borrow? And if I offer to pay for the scratches?
Lisa Lashes (Australianly) My HEAD. All I remember is waking up in the camel sanctuary and seeing that horrible thing just LOOKING at me
LBB: I mean, he has five. Where’s the harm?
JennyF: Did I…? What the? When did I get the snow-globe with ‘A Present from the Azerbaijan National Oil Co?’
LBB: Hang on…. Is that…?Lisa Lashes: My HEAD
LBB: Since when is the Emirates Palace in Dubai? Did we….? No…surely not… It is! Girls, I think we..
JennyF: We spent Friday night in Abu Dhabi?
Lisa Lashes: Socially, we are dead people.
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