They travel first class, stay in the Hilton 200 miles from the villiage and go around crying at some little kid with AIDS, never seem to offer them any food though. Then they whimper on about our lives of luxury in the west and how it makes them sad and has changed their outlook. But then they have to get back to London for a dinner party in Notting Hill, best not forget to pick up some Charlie and Champers on the way home.
Or
Do you never tire of the self serving charadee trips?
Or
Do you never tire of the self serving charadee trips?
Comment