'Money. Power. Money. Fame. Power. Money. Sex. Power. Fame. Dishwashers. Money.
Welcome to the world of the Di Angelos...'
The critics have been going wild:
"A Jackie Collins for the digital age" - Denzel Carpet, CEO Chicken Wanj
"Literally the most bizarre thing I've ever read" - Penny Crayon
"I don't get it" - Simon Simons, Editor 'Which Toothbrush?' magazine
Chapter One
The bright red Ferrari roared into the driveway, the intense sunshine bouncing off the windscreen as it made its final turn. Christoph Di Angelo inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma of the exquisite leather that covered the seats. Make no mistake; this was by no means the first time Christoph had been in a Ferrari. Born of the Darlo Di Angelos, he was certainly no stranger to the finer things in life.
Christoph Di Angelo cautiously eyed the front door of the opulent dwelling that stood before him. Like the three people who had arrived before him and the six who would follow, he had no idea why he had been invited or indeed who had requested the pleasure of his company. And as the many models, actresses and exquisite-limbed beauties who had fallen for the charms of Christoph could attest, his company was always a pleasure.
As Christoph mounted the first marble step, the front door was flung wide open. The figure that stood before him was a vision of power and independence, her unimaginably expensive tailored suit clinging to all the right places. Christoph couldn't help but glance appreciatively over his sunglasses. The thought crossed his mind that a business suit might not be the most appropriate attire in this heat, but the explanation for the wearing of it was quickly offered.
'I've come straight from a very important business meeting,'said Jobs Di Angelo, offering a firm handshake. 'I'm a lawyer.'
'Ace,' said Christoph casually. The presence of a lawyer was neither novelty or surprise to Christoph. Lawyers were a constant in the lives of the Darlo Di Angelos. As a family of such enormous wealth, dishonest vipers were always trying to get their share and Christoph's grandfather was always determined to deal with these people in the proper way; legally and through the courts of law. It was a pity that his grandfather's good morals and law-abiding ways had not been passed down to the errant young playboy.
But Christoph was wrong to pass off Jobs Di Angelo as 'just another lawyer' for she was no ordinary legal beagle. To say she was academically gifted would be an understatement so huge it almost bordered on insult. A graduate of the Beaverbrook School of Law at the age of eleven, Jobs went on to win her first high-profile divorce case the following year. She was the go-to girl for all tricky and hugely controversial legal battles. And Jobs Di Angelo always won.
However, like Christoph Di Angelo, she too had no idea why she had been invited to this exquisite location in the South of France, perched high up on a hillside with the most picturesque surroundings imaginable.
Jobs encouraged Christoph to follow her through to the courtyard. There sat two other people making casual conversation, both speculating as to why they had been invited there and indeed who by.
The previous week, eleven gold embossed envelopes had dropped through the the doors of eleven unsuspecting people. Each contained plane tickets and details of the house they found themselves at now.
Chav Di Angelo glanced up at the new arrival and couldn't help but do a double take. She was immediately struck by Christoph's smouldering good looks and air of confidence. There was something vaguely familiar about him and she smiled coyly as he nodded at her appreciatively. It was very unlike Chav Di Angelo to be so unguarded. A massively successful businesswoman in her own right, it was rare for her to drop the ice maiden routine. Jobs Di Angelo of course knew Chav from way back when, and the two women shared a mutual respect. Indeed it was the legal skills of Jobs Di Angelo that has got Chav Di Angelo out of a particularly difficult legal situation when her former business partner died in suspicious circumstances. It had been a huge story and days and days of front page news had been generated.
Chav's place nail bars were the business success story of the century. Chav Di Angelo and her business partner Coco Duprée had taken the world of cuticle care and varnish artistry to new heights. With more outlets than any other global company and branches in every major airport worldwide, they were the toast of the business world. When Richard Branson needed advice, he turned to the owners of 'Chav's Place.' The phrase 'than I've had hot dinners' had over time been replaced by 'than there are Chav's Place nail bars.' And then it all suddenly turned sour. The body of Coco Duprée had been found slumped in a chair in the flagship Mayfair branch of Chav's Place. She had been forced to drink the contents of forty seven bottles of varnish and had died from the poisoning this brought about. With total control of the company and enormous financial reward to gain from Coco's passing, there was only one person in the frame for the murder. It had long been an open secret that Chav and Coco despised each other, the result of an ill-advised love triangle with a nail buff supplier. However, with Jobs Di Angelo representing her, Chav was in no danger of being found guilty and the two had forged a mutually beneficial working relationship ever since; Chav Di Angelo was legally untouchable and Jobs Di Angelo had the most exquisitely decorated nails of anyone in the legal profession.
Christoph Di Angelo cautiously eyed the front door of the opulent dwelling that stood before him. Like the three people who had arrived before him and the six who would follow, he had no idea why he had been invited or indeed who had requested the pleasure of his company. And as the many models, actresses and exquisite-limbed beauties who had fallen for the charms of Christoph could attest, his company was always a pleasure.
As Christoph mounted the first marble step, the front door was flung wide open. The figure that stood before him was a vision of power and independence, her unimaginably expensive tailored suit clinging to all the right places. Christoph couldn't help but glance appreciatively over his sunglasses. The thought crossed his mind that a business suit might not be the most appropriate attire in this heat, but the explanation for the wearing of it was quickly offered.
'I've come straight from a very important business meeting,'said Jobs Di Angelo, offering a firm handshake. 'I'm a lawyer.'
'Ace,' said Christoph casually. The presence of a lawyer was neither novelty or surprise to Christoph. Lawyers were a constant in the lives of the Darlo Di Angelos. As a family of such enormous wealth, dishonest vipers were always trying to get their share and Christoph's grandfather was always determined to deal with these people in the proper way; legally and through the courts of law. It was a pity that his grandfather's good morals and law-abiding ways had not been passed down to the errant young playboy.
But Christoph was wrong to pass off Jobs Di Angelo as 'just another lawyer' for she was no ordinary legal beagle. To say she was academically gifted would be an understatement so huge it almost bordered on insult. A graduate of the Beaverbrook School of Law at the age of eleven, Jobs went on to win her first high-profile divorce case the following year. She was the go-to girl for all tricky and hugely controversial legal battles. And Jobs Di Angelo always won.
However, like Christoph Di Angelo, she too had no idea why she had been invited to this exquisite location in the South of France, perched high up on a hillside with the most picturesque surroundings imaginable.
Jobs encouraged Christoph to follow her through to the courtyard. There sat two other people making casual conversation, both speculating as to why they had been invited there and indeed who by.
The previous week, eleven gold embossed envelopes had dropped through the the doors of eleven unsuspecting people. Each contained plane tickets and details of the house they found themselves at now.
Chav Di Angelo glanced up at the new arrival and couldn't help but do a double take. She was immediately struck by Christoph's smouldering good looks and air of confidence. There was something vaguely familiar about him and she smiled coyly as he nodded at her appreciatively. It was very unlike Chav Di Angelo to be so unguarded. A massively successful businesswoman in her own right, it was rare for her to drop the ice maiden routine. Jobs Di Angelo of course knew Chav from way back when, and the two women shared a mutual respect. Indeed it was the legal skills of Jobs Di Angelo that has got Chav Di Angelo out of a particularly difficult legal situation when her former business partner died in suspicious circumstances. It had been a huge story and days and days of front page news had been generated.
Chav's place nail bars were the business success story of the century. Chav Di Angelo and her business partner Coco Duprée had taken the world of cuticle care and varnish artistry to new heights. With more outlets than any other global company and branches in every major airport worldwide, they were the toast of the business world. When Richard Branson needed advice, he turned to the owners of 'Chav's Place.' The phrase 'than I've had hot dinners' had over time been replaced by 'than there are Chav's Place nail bars.' And then it all suddenly turned sour. The body of Coco Duprée had been found slumped in a chair in the flagship Mayfair branch of Chav's Place. She had been forced to drink the contents of forty seven bottles of varnish and had died from the poisoning this brought about. With total control of the company and enormous financial reward to gain from Coco's passing, there was only one person in the frame for the murder. It had long been an open secret that Chav and Coco despised each other, the result of an ill-advised love triangle with a nail buff supplier. However, with Jobs Di Angelo representing her, Chav was in no danger of being found guilty and the two had forged a mutually beneficial working relationship ever since; Chav Di Angelo was legally untouchable and Jobs Di Angelo had the most exquisitely decorated nails of anyone in the legal profession.
Chapter Two
It struck Dr Eduardo Di Angelo as somewhat rude that Chav Di Angelo had abruptly cut off their conversation and turned her attentions to the designer clothing-clad young playboy who had joined their number. Sadly for Dr Eduardo this was not something that occurred as rarely as he would like. Often a female, initially impressed by his doctor status, would quickly turn their attentions away from him when the true nature of his work was revealed.
As an internationally renowned, and certainly amongst those in his field, highly respected stool technician, he was revered for his knowledge of all things excretia. But to those with only a rudimentary understanding of faeces, his vocation was somewhat off-putting. And so it was with great relief that Dr Eduardo looked up to see the arrival of a familiar face.
Wanj Di Angelo strode confidently into the courtyard. His years of experience as an international explorer and archaeologist meant that few scenarios ever daunted Wanj, and he viewed this mysterious gathering as just another adventure. As ever, his loyal saluki dog Bingo was by his side. Dr Eduardo stood up and greeted his old friend with an enthusiastic handshake.
Bingo the saluki padded over to Chav Di Angelo and she stroked the dog's exquisite pale fur. Ever the businesswoman, it flashed into Chav's mind that dog manicures could be the next avenue to explore. She made a mental note to discuss the legal implications of this with Jobs Di Angelo at a later date.
Ever the gentleman, Wanj Di Angelo diligently greeted each of the others in turn. With the formalities out of the way Christoph Di Angelo leapt up and said 'So none of us have any idea why we're here but I propose we have a drink and make the most of it.' The group agreed with his proposal, and just as Christoph was sourcing wine and champagne the crunching of tyre on gravel could be heard from outside.
A people carrier with blacked out windows had pulled up and a driver was busy offloading various items of luggage. Poppy Di Angelo adjusted her sun hat and checked her freshly-applied lipstick in her reflection in the car's windows. Her exquisite pure silk kaftan rippled gently in the breeze. 'It's really fucking hot and you're really fucking slow,' she snapped at the driver. 'I don't know why the fuck I'm here but I certainly know it's not to watch you fuck about offloading bags from a fucking car.' The driver looked up meekly, attempting to hurry up the operation but failing miserably. Christoph Di Angelo looked onto the scene in the driveway and smiled to himself. He had a feeling the chiding of the driver had been ongoing for the entire journey. There was something rather captivating about Poppy Di Angelo and rather than being put off by her vicious attitude towards the driver, he found it somewhat alluring.
Poppy stormed through the house 'Hello? Hello? For fuck's sake, is anyone there??' she cried.
'In the courtyard!' exclaimed Jobs Di Angelo.
'Jobs!' cried Poppy as she eventually emerged into the exquisite seating area.'How fucking fabulous to see you! What the fuck is going on? Thank God you're here! Who the fuck are they?'.
Poppy casually indicated the other members of the group, save for Christoph who was still sourcing alcoholic refreshment.
'This is Chav Di Angelo, Wanj Di Angelo and Dr Eduardo Di Angelo', replied Jobs.
'Pleasure I'm sure' came Poppy's sarcastic response. 'Now, is it possible to get a fucking drink in this fucking place?'.
Right on cue, Christoph Di Angelo emerged with a bottle of chilled champagne and as many glasses as he could carry.
'Well bon-fucking-jour!' exclaimed Poppy Di Angelo with great delight making no attempt to conceal the fact that the person carrying the drink was in her eyes, as delicious as the drink itself.
'Easy Poppy!' advised Jobs. 'Remember we're trying to avoid a ninth husband!'. The two women chuckled. Again, Jobs' legal expertise were the reason these two had become acquainted. Famed for her crime novels, Poppy Di Angelo had become equally well-known for her string of husbands and each one's subsequent mysterious demise. Added to that was the fact that each death would form the basis for the Poppy Di Angelo book that would inevitably follow; and here was fairly compelling case to suggest her involvement in each husband's untimely passing. However, with a lawyer of Job's Di Angelo's considerable talent and ability representing her, like Chav Di Angelo, Poppy was immune to whatever the penal system attempted to throw at her.
Next to arrive was Gary Di Angelo. A man of considerable wealth, Gary carried himself with the confidence of someone at the top of their game.
'Afternoon all,' he said, and tipped his Panama hat which was perched on his head at a jaunty angle. He reached for a glass of champagne and casually drank it in one go. Gary turned and noticed a familiar face.
'Well, well, well! If it isn't Dr Eduardo Di Angelo!' he said, mockingly.
'Gary' came Dr Eduardo's muted reply. Dr Eduardo and Gary had been at medical school together but whilst Gary had gone to be a leading light in the field of plastic surgery, an unfortunate misunderstanding with a young patient had seen Eduardo forced to give up his career as a GP and spend the rest of his days as a technician of stool.
'And what the fuck do you do?' enquired Poppy of Gary.
'I, my pretty be-kaftaned creature, am an arse sculpter.'
'How divine' came Poppy's Di Angelo's disinterested response.
Poppy's obvious disdain didn't bother Gary. He was in demand by the most influential women in the world. Gary's masterful skills in the art of exquisite posterior shaping had ensured his client list read like a Who's Who of the celebrity world.
'So, still fiddling about with people's backsides are you Gary?' said Dr Eduardo in an attempt to belittle the successful surgeon.
'Still fiddling about with what comes out of them?' came Gary's lightening quick response.
Chav Di Angelo couldn't help but let out a little laugh. Dr Eduardo sat back in his chair, dejected. How the tables had turned. Conversations like this never would have happened in medical school. Dr Eduardo had been the most popular and successful student on the course, whilst Gary had spend the majority of his time there as a nobody, working quietly and diligently, his presence barely acknowledged by his fellow students. But all the time he harboured a vicious resentment of the adored Dr Eduardo Di Angelo.
Not known for her patience, Poppy Di Angelo was becoming increasingly annoyed.
'Well, this is just fucking tedious!' she exclaimed. 'I'm bored and my champagne tastes like dog piss.'
Suddenly, the sound of a helicopter interrupted Poppy Di Angelo's tirade. The others were thankful for the distraction as they feared Poppy's offensive complaints would continue to come thick and fast.
Pablo Di Angelo stepped onto the lush grass from the helicopter with all the ease and confidence you would expect from someone of his success and fantastic wealth. His crisp white shirt and exquisite Italian designer suit sat beautifully on his manly frame. Jobs Di Angelo peeked out of the window and could barely contain her delight at the presence of the latest addition to the group.
'Pablo Di Angelo' she muttered under her breath and a shudder of delight pulsed through her body.
Pablo strode confidently up to the house. As he reached the doorway and entered the courtyard, he casually removed his designer sunglasses. 'Good day to you all' he said with a wry smile. Pablo's enormous wealth seemed to seep out of every pore. As the owner of finance, Pablo Di Angelo wanted for nothing. Despite his casual demeanour, it seemed entirely obvious to Wanj Di Angelo that this was a person with worries on their mind. Owning the concept of finance was a huge responsibility.
As an internationally renowned, and certainly amongst those in his field, highly respected stool technician, he was revered for his knowledge of all things excretia. But to those with only a rudimentary understanding of faeces, his vocation was somewhat off-putting. And so it was with great relief that Dr Eduardo looked up to see the arrival of a familiar face.
Wanj Di Angelo strode confidently into the courtyard. His years of experience as an international explorer and archaeologist meant that few scenarios ever daunted Wanj, and he viewed this mysterious gathering as just another adventure. As ever, his loyal saluki dog Bingo was by his side. Dr Eduardo stood up and greeted his old friend with an enthusiastic handshake.
Bingo the saluki padded over to Chav Di Angelo and she stroked the dog's exquisite pale fur. Ever the businesswoman, it flashed into Chav's mind that dog manicures could be the next avenue to explore. She made a mental note to discuss the legal implications of this with Jobs Di Angelo at a later date.
Ever the gentleman, Wanj Di Angelo diligently greeted each of the others in turn. With the formalities out of the way Christoph Di Angelo leapt up and said 'So none of us have any idea why we're here but I propose we have a drink and make the most of it.' The group agreed with his proposal, and just as Christoph was sourcing wine and champagne the crunching of tyre on gravel could be heard from outside.
A people carrier with blacked out windows had pulled up and a driver was busy offloading various items of luggage. Poppy Di Angelo adjusted her sun hat and checked her freshly-applied lipstick in her reflection in the car's windows. Her exquisite pure silk kaftan rippled gently in the breeze. 'It's really fucking hot and you're really fucking slow,' she snapped at the driver. 'I don't know why the fuck I'm here but I certainly know it's not to watch you fuck about offloading bags from a fucking car.' The driver looked up meekly, attempting to hurry up the operation but failing miserably. Christoph Di Angelo looked onto the scene in the driveway and smiled to himself. He had a feeling the chiding of the driver had been ongoing for the entire journey. There was something rather captivating about Poppy Di Angelo and rather than being put off by her vicious attitude towards the driver, he found it somewhat alluring.
Poppy stormed through the house 'Hello? Hello? For fuck's sake, is anyone there??' she cried.
'In the courtyard!' exclaimed Jobs Di Angelo.
'Jobs!' cried Poppy as she eventually emerged into the exquisite seating area.'How fucking fabulous to see you! What the fuck is going on? Thank God you're here! Who the fuck are they?'.
Poppy casually indicated the other members of the group, save for Christoph who was still sourcing alcoholic refreshment.
'This is Chav Di Angelo, Wanj Di Angelo and Dr Eduardo Di Angelo', replied Jobs.
'Pleasure I'm sure' came Poppy's sarcastic response. 'Now, is it possible to get a fucking drink in this fucking place?'.
Right on cue, Christoph Di Angelo emerged with a bottle of chilled champagne and as many glasses as he could carry.
'Well bon-fucking-jour!' exclaimed Poppy Di Angelo with great delight making no attempt to conceal the fact that the person carrying the drink was in her eyes, as delicious as the drink itself.
'Easy Poppy!' advised Jobs. 'Remember we're trying to avoid a ninth husband!'. The two women chuckled. Again, Jobs' legal expertise were the reason these two had become acquainted. Famed for her crime novels, Poppy Di Angelo had become equally well-known for her string of husbands and each one's subsequent mysterious demise. Added to that was the fact that each death would form the basis for the Poppy Di Angelo book that would inevitably follow; and here was fairly compelling case to suggest her involvement in each husband's untimely passing. However, with a lawyer of Job's Di Angelo's considerable talent and ability representing her, like Chav Di Angelo, Poppy was immune to whatever the penal system attempted to throw at her.
Next to arrive was Gary Di Angelo. A man of considerable wealth, Gary carried himself with the confidence of someone at the top of their game.
'Afternoon all,' he said, and tipped his Panama hat which was perched on his head at a jaunty angle. He reached for a glass of champagne and casually drank it in one go. Gary turned and noticed a familiar face.
'Well, well, well! If it isn't Dr Eduardo Di Angelo!' he said, mockingly.
'Gary' came Dr Eduardo's muted reply. Dr Eduardo and Gary had been at medical school together but whilst Gary had gone to be a leading light in the field of plastic surgery, an unfortunate misunderstanding with a young patient had seen Eduardo forced to give up his career as a GP and spend the rest of his days as a technician of stool.
'And what the fuck do you do?' enquired Poppy of Gary.
'I, my pretty be-kaftaned creature, am an arse sculpter.'
'How divine' came Poppy's Di Angelo's disinterested response.
Poppy's obvious disdain didn't bother Gary. He was in demand by the most influential women in the world. Gary's masterful skills in the art of exquisite posterior shaping had ensured his client list read like a Who's Who of the celebrity world.
'So, still fiddling about with people's backsides are you Gary?' said Dr Eduardo in an attempt to belittle the successful surgeon.
'Still fiddling about with what comes out of them?' came Gary's lightening quick response.
Chav Di Angelo couldn't help but let out a little laugh. Dr Eduardo sat back in his chair, dejected. How the tables had turned. Conversations like this never would have happened in medical school. Dr Eduardo had been the most popular and successful student on the course, whilst Gary had spend the majority of his time there as a nobody, working quietly and diligently, his presence barely acknowledged by his fellow students. But all the time he harboured a vicious resentment of the adored Dr Eduardo Di Angelo.
Not known for her patience, Poppy Di Angelo was becoming increasingly annoyed.
'Well, this is just fucking tedious!' she exclaimed. 'I'm bored and my champagne tastes like dog piss.'
Suddenly, the sound of a helicopter interrupted Poppy Di Angelo's tirade. The others were thankful for the distraction as they feared Poppy's offensive complaints would continue to come thick and fast.
Pablo Di Angelo stepped onto the lush grass from the helicopter with all the ease and confidence you would expect from someone of his success and fantastic wealth. His crisp white shirt and exquisite Italian designer suit sat beautifully on his manly frame. Jobs Di Angelo peeked out of the window and could barely contain her delight at the presence of the latest addition to the group.
'Pablo Di Angelo' she muttered under her breath and a shudder of delight pulsed through her body.
Pablo strode confidently up to the house. As he reached the doorway and entered the courtyard, he casually removed his designer sunglasses. 'Good day to you all' he said with a wry smile. Pablo's enormous wealth seemed to seep out of every pore. As the owner of finance, Pablo Di Angelo wanted for nothing. Despite his casual demeanour, it seemed entirely obvious to Wanj Di Angelo that this was a person with worries on their mind. Owning the concept of finance was a huge responsibility.
Chapter Three
“Pablo!” squealed Chav Di Angelo as she skipped towards him. Chav took the concept of air-kissing to new heights but it was obvious to all who surveyed this scene that she was genuinely delighted to see him. “Chav Di Angelo, an exquisite vision as ever” said Pablo smoothly as he looked her up and down, taking in her perfectly coiffed mane and nails buffed and polished to within an inch of their lives. Wanj Di Angelo rose from his seat and offered his hand to the new arrival. “Wanj Di Angelo. Pleasure to meet you…er…” Wanj paused for a moment, expecting the new addition to the group to offer his name, but nothing was forthcoming. “Pablo” purred Jobs. “Pab. Lo. Di An. Gel. O” said Jobs as she rudely cut in front of Wanj. She raised her hand and Pablo dutifully took it and kissed it. “Jobs. What brings you here?” asked Pablo. “The same as everyone else I presume, although as yet none of us are any the wiser” she replied. Christoph Di Angelo eyed Pablo suspiciously. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was another young buck stealing his limelight with the ladies. “Paula?! What the fuck sort of name is Paula for a man?!” barked Poppy Di Angelo, mockingly. “Oh Pops! It’s Pablo!” said Chav excitedly. “And don’t be so mean! If it wasn’t for Pablo, Chav’s Nail Bars wouldn’t be the business phenomenon of the modern age that they are! It was Pablo who financed the whole operation! He owns finance for God’s sake!” Chav and Jobs roared with laughter, although it struck everyone else that this wasn’t particularly funny. Pablo laughed nervously but just as Wanj Di Angelo had noted before him, it was also clear to Dr Eduardo that all may not be as it seemed with Pablo. It took one to know one after all. Eduardo recognised in Pablo the same pained expression he himself had worn in the days after his patient indiscretion had been revealed to the world. Pablo Di Angelo did a good job of hiding any angst he was harbouring though, as he glided towards the tray of champagne-filled glasses and casually helped himself. Pablo was beginning to feel a little edgy with all eyes being turned on him since his arrival but his concern was soon rendered unnecessary by the entrance of another guest. Dee Dee Di Angelo stumbled into the courtyard, clearly unprepared for the sight of eight faces all looking in her direction. She had tripped a little on the step and her entrance had been anything but gracious. She adjusted her enormous sun hat that had become displaced. “Good God” mumbled Poppy Di Angelo. “That headgear’s so big it can probably be fucking seen from fucking space!”
“Is it absolutely necessary for you to swear this much?” enquired Dr Eduardo Di Angelo. He was growing increasingly irritated with Poppy Di Angelo’s brash attitude. “Well excuse me, Dr Ass-poke or whoever the hell you are. Allow me to re-phrase: what the fiddle-fucking-sticks is that thing on her head?”. The others shuffled around and started to mumble nervous hellos, conscious that the new arrival could very probably hear she was at the business end of one of Poppy Di Angelo’s vicious rants. Just as Gary Di Angelo was tipping his hat and introducing himself to Dee Dee, Christoph Di Angelo pushed through the others and proclaimed “Well, I can’t believe my eyes! Dee Dee? Is it really you?! It is! It’s only Dee Dee Di Angelo everybody!” What had initially appeared to be affectionate recognition seemed more like mockery now. “Here I am,” Christoph continued, “sipping champagne in this exquisite location with these exquisite people” Christoph shot a glance at Chav Di Angelo and she giggled coyly. “And who should turn up but my old nanny Dee Dee Di Angelo!” “Your nanny?” enquired Jobs, conscious that they were clearly of similar age. Ever the lawyer, her naturally enquiring mind was always one step ahead of everyone else. “Yes my nanny! Poor old Dee Dee! Have the family sent you to check up on me?!” he said, laughing. “Oh get a grip Christoph” said Dee Dee. “I was never your nanny as well you know. And I haven’t seen your family since 1998. I’ve been in Japan since then and I’m very important and successful there”. “Well good for you!” said Wanj Di Angelo, trying to lighten the mood. “And what is it you do in Japan Dee Dee?” “I’m a music artiste. I had the biggest selling single of all time over there. It was number one for 147 weeks” “Well I never!” said Wanj. “I’ve spent some time in Japan. Would I have heard of the song?” Dee Dee Di Angelo looked suddenly sheepish. “I…I er, doubt it, I mean…” “It was a song used in an advert over there” interrupted Christoph, barely able to contain his amusement. “It was an advert for Chicken Wanj, the nutritious and delicious food product that's superceded turkey as the Christmas meal of choice.” “Ah yes! I think I know the one!” said Wanj. Clearly this was a food product close to his heart given the name connection. “Well it may have been used in an advert Christoph but it captured the heart of an entire nation! I am adored over there! On the day of my wedding, 4 million people lined the streets of Tokyo to wish me well. I have my own small person tribute act for God’s sake! Diddy Dee Dee! Plus my husband Ming Do Do is the most successful business man in Japan!”
“You’re married to Ming Do Do?” asked Pablo. “I know him very well! Why, I’ve conducted business with him on many occasions! Finance is very big in Japan you know.”
Although still furious with Christoph, Dee Dee managed to raise a smile for the suave Pablo. She was pleased at the prospect of an ally in this group. Not knowing why she had been asked to this place, and then finding Christoph here had left her feeling distinctly uneasy.
“Let me get this straight” interrupted Poppy Di Angelo. “You’re name is Dee Dee Do Do now?!”. Poppy could barely conceal the hysteria.
“Well no. Actually I double barreled it when I married Ming…” said Dee Dee, preparing for the inevitable.
“You are actually telling me your name is Dee Do Do Di Angelo? And better yet, your tribute act is Diddy Dee Dee Do Do Di Angelo?! This is fucking priceless! My God, I thought your hat was funny but this takes the fucking biscuit!”
Dee Dee stared at the floor, unwilling to respond further. This feeling was all too familiar. “Just remember you have Japan” she thought to herself. “You will always have Japan.” Spending her formative years with the Darlo Di Angelos had exposed Dee Dee to years of torment, and usually care of Christoph. Having run away from her own home at the age of 10, Christoph’s grandfather had found Dee Dee taking shelter in the lavish peacock enclosure on the Di Angelo estate. The kindly old man had taken pity on the poor stray and, after some negotiations with her parents, had agreed to adopt her into the family. Christoph had never made any attempt to welcome Dee Dee or make her feel at home, preferring instead to refer to her as ‘the nanny’. Deciding she could take no more, she fled to Japan aged 18 and had never looked back.
"Well, I think we should all have some more champagne" said Gary Di Angelo in an attempt to take the focus away from Dee Dee who had clearly had enough. The group agreed and moved to the sumptuous seating area. Dee Dee ensured she sat well away from Christoph, who in turn had ensured he was sitting as close as possible to Chav Di Angelo. They all made small talk, and speculated as to why they were there. Whilst there were clearly connections between some members of the group there was no obvious reason as to why they should have all been summoned and they were no closer to guessing who had instigated it.
After some time and a lot of champagne, the group became aware of the sound of a whirring motor in the distance. Music was playing loudly on a stereo and as it grew nearer, it became apparent that it was 'Erotica' by Madonna booming out. Bingo the Saluki began to bark. "He's quite the fan of Madonna" said Wanj Di Angelo trying to calm the dog down. Pablo Di Angelo went to investigate who or what was making it's way towards them. He was surprised at what he saw. A bright pink golf buggy with shining alloys was swerving all over the place but heading in the general direction of the property. Whoever was driving it was clearly no great respecter of herbacious borders which were left crushed in its Barbie-esque wake. The buggy screeched to a halt and Pablo was amazed that it didn't flip over, such was the erratic nature of the driver. Pablo was further amazed at the sight of the exquisite long-limbed beauty who emerged from it. The sun shimmered on her gold lamé catsuit and she walked with incredible ease on impossibly high heels, her look completed with a pair of sunglasses with lenses the size of dinner plates. Pablo rushed to assist her with luggage. "Why thank you" she said as Pablo pulled an enormous suitcase out of the buggy. "The pleasure is all mine" he replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?". The woman looked immediately disgruntled, as if she should require no introduction. "I am Whirlwind" she announced as she took off her huge sunglasses. Pablo immediately felt foolish. The second her glasses were raised he knew exactly who she was. Whirlwind was without doubt the most successful supermodel of all time. As the face of Chav's Place nail bars, she had more global exposure than Ronald McDonald and significantly better dress sense. Pablo stood open mouthed and looked on admiringly as Whirlwind casually flung a mink coat over her shoulder and slinked towards the front door, her hips swinging side to side. Pablo couldn't help but think a mink coat might be a little unnecessary in this weather but Whirlwind was never one to let a small matter like 80 degree heat get in the way of exquisite style.
“Is it absolutely necessary for you to swear this much?” enquired Dr Eduardo Di Angelo. He was growing increasingly irritated with Poppy Di Angelo’s brash attitude. “Well excuse me, Dr Ass-poke or whoever the hell you are. Allow me to re-phrase: what the fiddle-fucking-sticks is that thing on her head?”. The others shuffled around and started to mumble nervous hellos, conscious that the new arrival could very probably hear she was at the business end of one of Poppy Di Angelo’s vicious rants. Just as Gary Di Angelo was tipping his hat and introducing himself to Dee Dee, Christoph Di Angelo pushed through the others and proclaimed “Well, I can’t believe my eyes! Dee Dee? Is it really you?! It is! It’s only Dee Dee Di Angelo everybody!” What had initially appeared to be affectionate recognition seemed more like mockery now. “Here I am,” Christoph continued, “sipping champagne in this exquisite location with these exquisite people” Christoph shot a glance at Chav Di Angelo and she giggled coyly. “And who should turn up but my old nanny Dee Dee Di Angelo!” “Your nanny?” enquired Jobs, conscious that they were clearly of similar age. Ever the lawyer, her naturally enquiring mind was always one step ahead of everyone else. “Yes my nanny! Poor old Dee Dee! Have the family sent you to check up on me?!” he said, laughing. “Oh get a grip Christoph” said Dee Dee. “I was never your nanny as well you know. And I haven’t seen your family since 1998. I’ve been in Japan since then and I’m very important and successful there”. “Well good for you!” said Wanj Di Angelo, trying to lighten the mood. “And what is it you do in Japan Dee Dee?” “I’m a music artiste. I had the biggest selling single of all time over there. It was number one for 147 weeks” “Well I never!” said Wanj. “I’ve spent some time in Japan. Would I have heard of the song?” Dee Dee Di Angelo looked suddenly sheepish. “I…I er, doubt it, I mean…” “It was a song used in an advert over there” interrupted Christoph, barely able to contain his amusement. “It was an advert for Chicken Wanj, the nutritious and delicious food product that's superceded turkey as the Christmas meal of choice.” “Ah yes! I think I know the one!” said Wanj. Clearly this was a food product close to his heart given the name connection. “Well it may have been used in an advert Christoph but it captured the heart of an entire nation! I am adored over there! On the day of my wedding, 4 million people lined the streets of Tokyo to wish me well. I have my own small person tribute act for God’s sake! Diddy Dee Dee! Plus my husband Ming Do Do is the most successful business man in Japan!”
“You’re married to Ming Do Do?” asked Pablo. “I know him very well! Why, I’ve conducted business with him on many occasions! Finance is very big in Japan you know.”
Although still furious with Christoph, Dee Dee managed to raise a smile for the suave Pablo. She was pleased at the prospect of an ally in this group. Not knowing why she had been asked to this place, and then finding Christoph here had left her feeling distinctly uneasy.
“Let me get this straight” interrupted Poppy Di Angelo. “You’re name is Dee Dee Do Do now?!”. Poppy could barely conceal the hysteria.
“Well no. Actually I double barreled it when I married Ming…” said Dee Dee, preparing for the inevitable.
“You are actually telling me your name is Dee Do Do Di Angelo? And better yet, your tribute act is Diddy Dee Dee Do Do Di Angelo?! This is fucking priceless! My God, I thought your hat was funny but this takes the fucking biscuit!”
Dee Dee stared at the floor, unwilling to respond further. This feeling was all too familiar. “Just remember you have Japan” she thought to herself. “You will always have Japan.” Spending her formative years with the Darlo Di Angelos had exposed Dee Dee to years of torment, and usually care of Christoph. Having run away from her own home at the age of 10, Christoph’s grandfather had found Dee Dee taking shelter in the lavish peacock enclosure on the Di Angelo estate. The kindly old man had taken pity on the poor stray and, after some negotiations with her parents, had agreed to adopt her into the family. Christoph had never made any attempt to welcome Dee Dee or make her feel at home, preferring instead to refer to her as ‘the nanny’. Deciding she could take no more, she fled to Japan aged 18 and had never looked back.
"Well, I think we should all have some more champagne" said Gary Di Angelo in an attempt to take the focus away from Dee Dee who had clearly had enough. The group agreed and moved to the sumptuous seating area. Dee Dee ensured she sat well away from Christoph, who in turn had ensured he was sitting as close as possible to Chav Di Angelo. They all made small talk, and speculated as to why they were there. Whilst there were clearly connections between some members of the group there was no obvious reason as to why they should have all been summoned and they were no closer to guessing who had instigated it.
After some time and a lot of champagne, the group became aware of the sound of a whirring motor in the distance. Music was playing loudly on a stereo and as it grew nearer, it became apparent that it was 'Erotica' by Madonna booming out. Bingo the Saluki began to bark. "He's quite the fan of Madonna" said Wanj Di Angelo trying to calm the dog down. Pablo Di Angelo went to investigate who or what was making it's way towards them. He was surprised at what he saw. A bright pink golf buggy with shining alloys was swerving all over the place but heading in the general direction of the property. Whoever was driving it was clearly no great respecter of herbacious borders which were left crushed in its Barbie-esque wake. The buggy screeched to a halt and Pablo was amazed that it didn't flip over, such was the erratic nature of the driver. Pablo was further amazed at the sight of the exquisite long-limbed beauty who emerged from it. The sun shimmered on her gold lamé catsuit and she walked with incredible ease on impossibly high heels, her look completed with a pair of sunglasses with lenses the size of dinner plates. Pablo rushed to assist her with luggage. "Why thank you" she said as Pablo pulled an enormous suitcase out of the buggy. "The pleasure is all mine" he replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?". The woman looked immediately disgruntled, as if she should require no introduction. "I am Whirlwind" she announced as she took off her huge sunglasses. Pablo immediately felt foolish. The second her glasses were raised he knew exactly who she was. Whirlwind was without doubt the most successful supermodel of all time. As the face of Chav's Place nail bars, she had more global exposure than Ronald McDonald and significantly better dress sense. Pablo stood open mouthed and looked on admiringly as Whirlwind casually flung a mink coat over her shoulder and slinked towards the front door, her hips swinging side to side. Pablo couldn't help but think a mink coat might be a little unnecessary in this weather but Whirlwind was never one to let a small matter like 80 degree heat get in the way of exquisite style.
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