Well, well, well. The Archbishop of Canterbury has found his party went a bit over budget, and his guests have left him £1 million short of the catering bill.
Now I told Rowan to check everyone’s mini-bar before they skipped town, and if it had been one of my staff who allowed the lads to put their “special” room-service massages on the tab they’d be finding their organs going to the highest bidder in a Beijing hospital, mark my words. But do you think he’d listen? And now it looks like he’s going to be forced to shimmy up the funds by touring the U.S. before the repo man comes for his mitre and stole.
Yet fortunately my dear Consuella has quite a bit of experience when it comes to shaking up a few dollars by touring, and with her contacts I’ve no doubt she’ll be able to secure him bookings at some of best paying clubs in the country. There’s a few details she’ll need from His Grace first – such as whether he prefers to dance the pole or concentrate on floor work, and if he’d rather be paid a flat rate plus tips per show, or receive a commission plus share of bar takings, but once we get a reply on that you can be sure he’ll have bookings coming out of his eyebrows. Although on the other hand, we may first have to do something about them as well…
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.