What is this?    Do you know Remco Van Aubel?    Only too well.    C’est un club cosmopolite.    He does not like you for some reason.    That is Elke Lente.    ‘Cosmopolitanissssssimo’. Really hiss it!    Surely.    Is that a piece of work?    Bisongrass.    Who are all these people?    There is Frédéric de Goldschmidt.    Beyond the silken curtain.    Moritz Švejk.    Do you remember me? ‘The Grapevine’?    These things are all the same.    And this is Jacub Blandy, Filip Gilissen Josip Novosel.    Doubtless, he has his reasons.    A kind of plastic made of milk.    Life Sport. Puppies Puppies.    Earwig in my pocket.    With the yuppies. And there Leo Cooler and his beautiful wife.    ‘More Than a Woman’.    They’re not at all the same.    Something‑Wiktoria Calk.    The name on everybody’s lips.    The blonde.    I thought he would be taller.    She is a very vivacious woman.    And more talented.    Twelve hours and then everything is destroyed.    Cocaïne.    She was. Where I come from.    Annasolal.    May I have this dance?    Where?    My island. Beyond the pale.    Did you get ready together?    Seated of course beyond the velvet rope. Without whom this, all of this, would none of it have been possible.    Did you get ready in the dark?    ‘Each spring’, a little bird told me.    Beyond the dreams of avarice.    Stop!    I can change.    I know something about your brother. Go and look in the toilet.    Mario Z.    Jacub Blandy, Filip GilissenWho?    Meet my mother.    Slowly. Slowly!    My father.    This is the worst bit.    I am called Rudy.    He sleeps on a futon and he never turns it. Nor beats it.    Don’t make me beg.    Lamarr Xul.    Are you a safe driver? Did you look at the work?    And Margot.    They’re making this music together now.    Very good.    Like, it’s almost unbearable.    Pop. Soft rock.    A cigarette.    A synthesis of the most successful genres.    Your way.    The shirt?    Featuring, et cetera.    Talk to Lisette. The toilet lady!    So Cavalli.    I was educated at Malvern.    I’m worried about you.    I haven’t had the pleasure.    Are you ready for this?    Naturally. Korintian Delaplaja.    Something of the night about him.    I was told that not only was I not welcome, I wasn’t even on the agenda.    Wind‑up merchants and liars.    At least that’s what he calls himself.    Only don’t for the love of God go up into the mountains. Gallerist, champagne!    Jacub Blandy, Filip GilissenThis is Cavalli.    Surely we have met before?    Not in Paris?    Say something.    Another Tiphanie!    That D–R–E–S–S–S.    A cigarette?    Serge.    It’s Fatima Ait‑Ali.    After the surgery he is completely unrecognisable.    It’s kind of weird? In London?    I’m Marlie.    Is it your first time here?    You know me I’m up and down like a whore’s drawers.    But I’m fascinated by Games Workshop.    Etienne! Tuurlijk.    Again. Allez.    A crafty one.    I saw it all. He was bundled into the trunk of the automobile.    She was only offering you a sip!    I am Włodzisława Fysshe‑Ffrench.    Michael.    You look like someone.    I am someone.    I’ve been here before.    Yes yes yes yes yes.    At Jimmy Hoo’s.    In Wien?    Many times. Though this is rather different.    Driving about by night in this dove‑grey Porsche of his.    No, Barbier Bouvet.    Egg white and alabaster.    Fair fucks, frankly.    It’s double‑barrelled.    She unfollowed me on Instagram.    That was convenient.    For her.    Wasn’t it just.    If he wants a fucking cigarette so fucking much why doesn’t he go to the fucking nightshop?    But I’ve been most unwell. Touché.    The dark web.    Passé.    Potato. Would that be to your taste?    Tonight?    I am very direct. I have told you Balenciaga was a friend shall we say of my grandmother.    So much for female solidarity!    Grabataire.    Well we’ve all seen better days.    I’m sorry.    Balls.    In Basel?    The painter Tom Krol?    That can’t be right.    But is it a lie if nobody finds out?    World‑weary. Looking at me with those puppydog eyes.    Filip Gilissen.    Rabbitskin glue.    His face what‑is‑the‑word swaddled in bandaging.    I’ve been here seven weeks and counting.    I always thought it was ‘glistens’?    He’s been stabbed!    And so on.    Or slashed with something sharp.    ¡Qué botas!    But worth it to be here with you.    As per diamonds.    It’s everything!    I know something about him that I’m not allowed to tell you.    I think that’s my friend.    We took off from Bordeaux Saucats.    Mine ears a‑burning.    A serious young woman.    Snakeskin! Oysters?    Ed Sheeran.    You know she was actually meant to be in Cannes six days ago.    What happens here, stays here.    He’s a horrible sycophant.    The ‘DJ’.    I’ve become absolutely irresistible to all women.    Your friend the former footballer.    It should go without saying.    Meet my lover.    Bats!    Or that which is not gold.    Baal.    At the very least.    NAME.    And affairs, illicit ones.    I don’t think you fully understand how grave the situation has become.    Everything will be reduced to ashes. And walls have ears.    S–N–O–E–C–K.    But it probably isn’t.    Do I know you?    Aaliyah.    Of course!    I am no longer sick.    She has been staying with us already a long time.    Her ex.    This is Cyrille.    Are you spying on me?    And this Katia.    All affairs are illicit in one way or another.    Does he always speak like that?    This is not my outfit, this is my pyjama top.    Jacub Blandy, Filip GilissenAnd she’s a sitting duck.    Always.    Bite him.    But he’s completely deaf.    And serve her right.    S–N–O–B.    Pure kwaadsprekerij.    If you like.    And not forgetting Sandrine.    Her hair! She did those bum‑prints.    What kind of bats are they called who come and drink out of you your blood?    Harmonie Grunge.    His bandagiste is perhaps the best in all of the Low Countries.    My lump has been used as an ashtray.    Caviar.    And yes, pineapple is an aphrodisiac.    Four bottles.    A toast!    Of all the grands prix I attended this year, that was by far the best.    Of course it’s a wig.    To health and wealth!    Facelift and tummytuck.    To us!    To art!    I think that’s absolutely disgusting.    To Cyrille!    Those bitches have stolen my coat.    Hear, hear.    Liver flukes.    The sequins make it.    Speech!    To the lovely Sandrine.    That and the ponytail.    A running joke.    I would call it ‘special’.    Four days is enough. Four hundred and fifty euros is enough.    He’s here – somewhere!    Montassut.     The tragedy is that the incident took place at one of the most important new galleries in London.    Roberto!    Now now boys, settle down.    I’ve said some awful things about her. In my time.    He deals in armaments.    But did you look at the work?    Or, perhaps, ‘Sensitive Orc’?    This much was made crystal to me.    Mirror mirror.    You get it.    And what about if, again ‘by accident’, I dotted this cigarette out in your eye?    Carl Palm, yes.    The music is quite dumb.    You would like the coast, it’s very white.    Fancy seeing you here.    What a small art‑world!    They’re in the film business.    Your name?    Like butter wouldn’t melt – like Little Miss I‑don’t‑know‑what. This was during the orgy.    I notice the mirror is not being used properly.    Crushing.    ‘Shakira Shakira’.    Every which way. Apparently.    Marie Karlberg?    You make me want to speak Esperanto.    Good evening. You all know who I am.    Kind of Spanish‑orientated shitty stuff.    Your so‑called taste.    I like the father of Filip.    Perhaps they do not know about the mirror.    If you can call it a business.    Its intended use.    And Zuzanna Czebatul. Well that’s just how we say it.    Sonia! Permanence.    Because we can’t make those noises.    And when she came back into the room he was concealed behind the curtains.    There’s one. And another one.    Dancing like pigs.    He pronounced it with a hard ‘g’.    Not my kind of music at all.    But a certain part of his anatomy was on display.    Pigs, ignorant of le miroir.    Jacub Blandy, Filip GilissenBy then you will all of you be aboard my boat, the Dracula IV.    Jean‑Gwénolé Fleuriot too.    So terribly hot inside that ridiculous costume!    ‘Just a Cérébrale, or You Can't Stop Me from Dreaming’.    I’ve not heard of any of the others.    Never mind who is he.    But I’m so tired.    Though pigs I believe have passed the mirror‑test.    Dark glasses at night.    Poking through.    NAME.    ‘Through a glass, darkly.’    And quite naked.    They’ve gone to the nightshop for more.    Right on.    Your mother and I are leaving you.    Does anybody speak Esperanto?    Not in Ilium.    Forgive me.    The new global supermoon.    Listening in.    We’ve heard quite enough thank you.    I’ve not howled at a moon like that since I still had my eggtooth.    Like pigs!    Maureen I’m bleeding.    Miami.    Am I?    Or not.    As overheard by Toxick Gringo on 14–15 December 2017 at ‘Cosmopolitanissimo’ at Jimmy Hoo between the hours of 9 p.m. and 6 a.m.