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Friday, January 28, 2005

Paris wasn't there


How sad for us. Acting on a tip-off from a supposedly reliable source, Paolo Koala and I paid a little visit to the Melrose Arch Hotel last night in a (rather) desperate bid to find Paris and Nicky Hilton, who were apparently in Jo'burg to participate in a Guess launch that was held at the hotel (it all kinda makes sense, especially with the magnificent Guess billboards, featuring the love of my life, that have sprung up on the M1 and the wall of Menlyn Park - if there are more, please tell me where).

A big Guess banner in the lobby got us pretty excited, and we set about quizzing concierges, bellboys and barmen as to whether the party-goers from the afternoon were still there and, upon being told that the party was over and no-one had stayed behind, where they had all fucked off to. Paolo, who moonlights as an Australian private investigator, was exceptional, applying just the right amount of pressure, offset by a modicum of humour. We were getting results, but they were negative.

A concierge suggested we try Kilimanjaro next door. They weren't there. Finally, after racking our brains and asking ourselves the obvious question: "If I were Paris Hilton, where would I be?", we went back to my place. Not really.

In the end, the only Hilton we found was Sandton Hilton. And her bar. Where we klapped a few whiskeys, ate some beernuts, quizzed the barman (who was suprisingly helpful, and put in a few calls to his mates around the hotel to see if Paris was staying there), chewed the fat, and then went our separate ways.

So we didn't find the Hiltons. But we had fun trying anyways.





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