NyLon! – chapter 17

A few hours before the candid Hindu-orobic tycoon John Patel was landing in Bergamo’s airport Orio al Serio, he already was re-embarking to Rome Ciampino with a light bulb. I carried on towards London with Abigail bound to Scotland, and back at home I relaxed writing a letter to an old acquantaince of mine, an Esperantomorphic australopitecous

Dearest Hotel, you won’t believe this one! Last Friday I went to the assembly of our local Lib-Dem primaries in order to choose the PPC, that is our candidate to next years’ parliamentary election in my constituency. It was my first time, even if I’m enrolled since many years but previously I was living in Scotland and there had not been a similar opportunity. Well, all this to tell you that in their primaries they use your Australian electoral system! In fact on the card I had to indicate four candidates in preference order. As anticipated in NyLon!, I’ve voted Gary for I know him personally (and because he his my accomplice in our secret plan to infiltrate the Italian radicals without making it known through their forum, etc), but I didn’t know the possibility to give a second, third and fourth preference. Thus I have given the second one to Nahid just because I spoke to her, at least by telephone. I didn’t know in in any way anybody else. It works like this: every other candidate cannot be present when a competitor carries out their presentation. This is because they could copy the answers to the members’ pernicious questions (all is monitored by a pair of employees of the party headquarters), in short the wretched ones are submitted to a scholastic exam. Therefore while a candidate speaks, the other three are confined in a contiguous small room. Exactly because I’ve gone there already with a clear idea on who to vote, I couldn’t care less to listen to them, therefore I went to the toilet to wee the beer and smoke a fag. Coming back I stop by the contiguous small room where the three candidates are confined while in the main room the fourth is taking the floor, a tall know-it-all looking like a kind of Cappattozzoni OGM-Inflated. In the small room I greet Gary confirming him my first preference and personally meet Nahid reassuring her of my second preference, when this 25-y-o wonder of nature in miniskirt and stiletto heels. But you Pakistani women wouldn’t be supposed to carry the Koran under the burka?

- That woul be hard, being my job a belly dancer in the Leicester Square Suk.

Norsheen aka Kiki had spoken in before, when I hadn’t arrived yet. I’m sorry, I told her, not having been able to listen to her speech. No worries, she replies, I’ll repeat it here in private audience especially for you. And she quickly changed in front of me in belly dancer apparel, rappingly blurting off her little speech in perfect Esperanto

- This constituency is winnable and I believe that together with local party members I can make this happen! I want to represent you as the first Liberal Democrat MP for Ealing, Acton and Shepherd's Bush. We now have to solid base but we need to make inroads into areas where we are currently weak. We need to prove that we are the clear challengers to Labour and squeeze the Tory vote. We have successfully done this in Brent East where I previously was the Liberal Democrat candidate and the think this is clearly possible here. Please give me the opportunity to help you make this a Liberal Democrat constituency!

What a faint of a girl. She has legs as they should be, unlike Naomi Campbell. Tits equally small, but in order to make them grow it would be enough to work on them patiently massaging them, while to bendy legs there is no remedy. Goodbye Hotel, deferently I salute your dick, let me know me in private on the forum if you have finally been successful in having pre-nuptial intercourses with Sara. PS: For the record, Gary has been elected, with just two preferences more than the OGM-Inflated .

In London penetrating Crapazzoni I was interrupted by Marco Cappato.

- I am Marco Cappato

All - Bastaaa!

Granzotto - Thanks. I was saying that while in London penetrating Crapazzoni, interpreted by Marco Cappato, I dared to inquire it on the fate of Olivier Dupuis.

- What happened to Olivier Dupuis?

- Boh, liquidated with a short notice like many others. Why do you ask?

- Mah, shame, he seemed a nice guy, not a Rutelli. He could turn out to be useful with what’s happening in Chechnya. And in Laos, and Tibet. Political investments in the long term, instead of the Sunday’a italiotic politics

Made jealous, Crapazzoni exacerbated - and what makes you to think that it was a type in leg?

- For example, except for Bonino he was the only one who calmly slept next to me when I drove them over 100 mph on the Macedonin roads. We amused ourselves a lot with the fines for speeding in Macedonia. Never mind, the party used to pay for them

Shit, I had betrayed myself. They always were sexual relationships to betray me, even if usually they were those of my wife. Fockoff, now Crapazzoni had uncovered me

- You are not Bob Granzotto, you are Michele Boselli!

- No, no, I swear to you that I am Bob Granzotto. Michele Boselli is nothing but my non-authorized biographer

Crapazzoni fell asleep pretending to believe me while in the Ferrari I carried him at 100 mph on the A4 towards Heathrow. Unloaded him there, went on to Ascot, where I had an appointment with Jarno for the last grand pix that the famous race course would have hosted before closing for next nineteen months because of renovation works. Not that Jarno had given himself to horse racing, that would rather should have done Briatore, but Jarno lived in nearby Binfield because of the Renault F1 team based in Wockingham. Therefore we frequently met in Ascot to try and shag the nimphomaniac upper class posh ladies in ridicules hats. He possessed the charme of F1 pilot, and I offered the fascination of a Ferrari that he envied to me because he only not succeeded to pass from a Renault to a Toyota. And since for the next season he would have to move to the Toyota team in Cologne, we greeted each other and Ascot as well for the last time. We wished the best and we wa also wished that Briatore met again the one with small tits and bendy legs so that the owner beat him up violently like her well known habit.