The Diddy Man

YOU are a rapper, record executive, singer, designer, restaurateur, music mogul. You have made it in showbiz.

Only a handful of us can name a song you have sung or a movie you have starred in but we know your name. You are portrayed as the apogee of cool. You have made it.

And you throw a party for the 50 people who “like me, they accept nothing less than the highest luxuries in life”. They are the “select few”.

You head to St Tropez. You get the use of a 300ft yacht called the RM Elegant, at a reported cost of £300,000 a week.

Paris Hilton turns up. So does Penelope Cruz, who is the face of your eponymous clothing line. She wears the same dress as Ivana Trump. Penelope is 32. Ivana is old enough to know better, or not to care.

And there are more, others whose names are so esoteric and special that even Hello! is unable to identify them.

So cool are you that when people arrive at your boat they are told to remove their shoes so as not to damage the floor. No-one over the age of six should be made to remove their shoes for anything but the most stringent religious reasons.

But you pull it off. The well-heeded shed their to-die-for shoes and to put the tin lid on your coupe you give them each a pair of white slippers to wear, of the type worn by the institutionalised in elite rehab units.

You are Diddy. And at the height of your powers you pose for a photograph with two examples of the beau monde – Sarah Ferguson and her daughter Princes Eugenie.

And the rest of us wonder what it is we missed out on…

Posted: 9th, August 2006 | In: Reviews Comment | TrackBack | Permalink