December 22, 2005
We have just returned to our hotel room from Sir Elton and David's wedding reception. It got ugly, real ugly. You could say it was a blizzard, cocaine everywhere. Take it from us, Sir Elton is NOT clean, and neither is David. It was pretty clear it was exceptionally good gear (apparently). Things started to go downhill from the moment Sir Elton sang his song to his new husband titled 'My Husband David' (yet ANOTHER rehash of 'Candle in the Wind'). Cringing, we slunk out of a flap of the marquee and sat by the pond for a smoke. To our dismay, we were attacked by a very vicious and angry Karl Lagerfeld. He'd read Liquid Karl and he was very cross. His breath stinking of sunflower seeds, he poured out his fury in colourful Deutsch expletives, ubernouns that made no sense. We were distracted from our berating by a wide-eyed Liz Hurley and Arun Nayar (who bears such a striking resemblence to Bobby Ewing from Dallas, we secretly refer to him as Bombay Bobby). With rolled 50 euro notes, they divined cocaine on the shoulders of Karl Lagerfeld. We were amazed and amused as they were so out of it, they didn't realise they were hoovering the talcum powder that Karl uses to whiten his hair.