Yes, i’m a whore. Yes i’m a tart and yes i’m a slut (on occasions). I do love to play when i get the opportunity and my ass is always happy to get naked, especially if there’s a camera or a naked hand in the room or a big sword.
However, i feel that i might in recent times have been a little remiss. My implied tartiness could indeed lead one to a misunderstanding. You dear listener, could, solely on my account, easily be forgiven for coming to the extraordinarily inaccurate conclusion, that here in the home of The Leaky One (Ingrid), i am subjected to a life of constant neglect. That my existence borders on the extinct and that i am left to wither away and that i constantly stare death in the face.
Well i have to tell you, that that is not entirely correct. True, she does bring home and subject me to, diseases, which even as i sit here in my frailty and type, i am forced to do battle with. However it is certainly not a fair representation of the whole picture. The canvas that i paint for you, is not complete. My palette is only partially used.
You see, i am spoilt. There is no getting away from the fact, that here in Saint Severin’s branch of the Vatican, your pontiff elect is kept in the style to which i am now quickly becoming accustomed.
If one were to take this evening, purely as a typical example, one would learn that i have been cooked for, fed, watered, medicated, given treats, been spoilt, pampered and generally fussed over. I am indeed a very spoilt little whore. And i thought that it was time that my gratitude for this, be put on record.
Oh i know what you’re thinking. You’re waiting for the punchline, the put-down, the inevitable jokey repost. But i tell you, given my current state of frailty, my reliance upon the comfort and succour and hot tea of my benefactor, it’s more than my life’s worth at the moment. And so my public display of gratitude has to, for now at least, resemble something of a likeness to the sincerity in which it is intended.