Birgit and the Mexican Ambassador.

I have just come down from my sunset terrace where these days I am being good to my Lenten promise and only drinking ginger and lemon juice sans Rum.  That did not prevent me from catching the giggles though, all alone. I laughed out loud in fact because I remembered the one about Birgit and the Mexican Ambassador...

How much fun we have had here, I reflected as I looked at Petit Bandit in the distance for nearly the last time, frolicking on my land, kicking up little dust clouds, just like the  footballers in the distance with the sun setting like a Seville Orange over the Mosque. But I digress: I was going to talk about Birgit and the Mexican Ambassador.

One night a long time ago when the hotel was full and ten tables glittered in the garden, awaiting the dinner guests, Birgit was here and helping along in the service- or at least keeping an eye on things. There was one single guest amongst the groups of friends and families: A Mexican ambassador we had been told by the person that had carried out the booking, although he was not an ambassador in this country, only on a pleasure trip alone.
He seemed keen to have some company and as I had already been invited by another table, Birgit kindly volunteered- or I think he invited her to dine with him. He was a middle aged man, not unpleasant looking. It appears it all began innocently enough with a fairly conventional conversation over the first course. And then, quite out of the blue according to Birgit, he dropped in the following show stopper: “Can I interest you in some casual sex tonight?” Birgit, not a shrinking violet, and a habitué of certain bars in Amsterdam where I would hesitate to tread, was pole-axed. But she recovered instantly and not wishing to seem like a spoil sport she replied, without really thinking properly: “ Sure, why not”. There was a problem, however. His Excellency suffered from severe halitosis. But I don’t believe that was the only problem: Birgit now felt trapped: what to do? When they finished the meal he let her know that he expected her in the Peul suite when she was ready. She dragged me into a corner, semi hysterical: “What am I going to do??? “  "Well, nothing," I suggested, boringly, but sensibly. And the ambassador waited in vain. In the morning I believe Birgit might have mumbled something about a head ache, but of course nothing else was said...