![]() "What did you go in there for?" asks the VJ, timidly. Suddenly, the door opens and he's back in, champagne and wheels ordered to keep flowing. The MTV VJ looks ever more desperate, wondering if he'll ever come back. ![]() Disentangling himself from the limo, he gets out of the car and enters. Cooing babe on each arm, kids playing at his feet, a bottle of Moët perpetually jammed in his slurring mouth, talking drunken nonsense, he leans forward and orders the driver to pull up outside an innocuous, low-slung building. ![]() In the back, looking backwards, an MTV anchorwoman – clutching a mic for grim life, dreaming of easier jobs, scanning with increasing anxiety the unknown New York streets the limo is now winding its way through.įacing her, a rap star – white suit, gold jewellery, the works. In the front, a chauffeur – looking pissed off, chewing a toothpick for courage, dreaming of Sinatra.
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