The perils of life as a husband seeker
Sunday night in Knightsbridge – At a party in full swing at a trendy restaurant, a Pucci clad woman said to her friend: “I’m just so sexy. I’ve got the all-round package but I’m just not getting the right man”. By that, she did not mean the love of her life. This ambitious sort had another agenda and a simple one at that: She wanted a man with money. She didn’t care if he was fat or thin, old or young. All that mattered was that he had to be stinking rich.
As the Pucci princess smoked with her companion on the pavement, two Indian men got into their Rolls-Royce Ghost – number plate “BO55 HAD” – and wound down the window. After casually chucking out a Glenfiddich 12 year-old whisky bottle casing, they headed off to their next destination.
The Pucci princess turned around as the case fell to the ground in abject horror. She was not shocked by the Indian having littered the pavement with the whisky casing but, in fact, instead, distraught on having missed the chance to get an intro to the plainly wealthy Indians.
“You stuffed up there”, stated the Pucci loving woman’s sidekick. “I did, didn’t I? Why was I wasting my time talking to you when I could have had them?” came the answer. Plainly someone with a financial rather than a moral compass, this gold digger turned on her heels and set off back inside – lockdown on her next target. What a sad and disappointing way to live.
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