Serves – 1
Cooking time – As long as it takes
You should have an electrifying presence. You should be convivial, chatty and coquettish. You should live in a world of your own imagination.
Select half a dozen guys with necks like tyres and arms like legs. They should be heavily tattooed and surly. They should break into a cold sweat at the sight of a book. The chief bodyguard should hide his ability to snap your spine like a twig behind friendly, jocular mannerisms.
You will need an assortment of waif-thin ladies. Their job is to wear large sunglasses indoors and hold mobile phones to their ears at all times, whether an actual conversation is taking place or not. They must be better than everyone else on the planet, but must on no accounts be as physically attractive as you.
You will need an assortment of camp, sychophantic white males in early middle-age who will mince their way into every conversation with the apparent objective of making simple things they know nothing about as complicated as possible for the professionals doing their jobs. Pathetic to the point of self-parody, they must have zero self-awareness and as few inhibitions as possible, in order to suppress the otherwise inevitable emergence of rational thought.
It’s important to have a full-time member of staff to check the lighting in each room before you enter it, to move lamps around and look for ways to reduce the misery of excess shadow. When he’s done fitting dimmer switches and swapping lightbulbs, he’s free to wander the streets, injecting heroin into his eyeballs and laughing maniacally at how he earns so much to do so little in between muttering the immortal words, “I’m too old for this shit”.