Hôtel Georges V

I find myself becoming more and more reclusive spending most of my time in my (junior) suite and venturing only as far as Le Bar, La Galerie or Le Cinq when I do leave the confines of my sanctum sanctorum. Reasons to go forth from the hotel are becoming harder to reconcile and it is evident to me that I am living in the very center of the universe where everything and everyone will present themselves in due time and elegant proportion.

This is not a Howard Hughes scenario where dark forces have done away with me so as to make use of my assets or reputation. Those people always circulate discrediting rumors when they’ve gotten rid of some recalcitrant nuisance and are keeping them ‘alive’ for the purpose of cover. You haven’t heard stories of me growing ten-inch fingernails or watching Ice Station Zebra forty-seven times a day though a female companion once took to watching Hitch a few hundred times a week on pay-per-view to the extent that the cable company called to inquire if there was a malfunction with the system. I assured them that the malfunction, to use their term, could be found elsewhere in the household. They of the dark side always like to trivialize and ridicule those they have dispensed with whilst helping themselves to whatever their ravenous appetite craves. This is a long standing pattern of behavior obvious to anyone who is the least bit observant and in possession of a prehensile mind.

I do not suggest that the Georges V is the best hotel in the world--merely that it is the only one.