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Finding the very idea of celebrity endlessly hilarious I have come to the conclusion there is room and indeed a necessity to illuminate the wonders of our betters whilst dining. This rancid trope has been trotted out before but I intend to make more than a meal out of it.
We have all stood in the thrall of many a worthy. Who among us has not secretly thought or openly expounded a desire to spend a liquid afternoon listening to somebody interesting.
My goodness, I would give my left testicle to pick the brains of Oscar Wilde if he was still with us and not only that but sit at table with him, imbibe a fine wine and munch on a freshly slain beast. I fear, however, in dear old Oscars case the affair would have deteriorated in direct proportion to the amount of Absinthe consumed. I use Oscar as my guide with most things. It was, after all Algernon Moncreif in ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ who made the following remark.
“When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as any one who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food and drink”.
Oscar also said.
“It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information.”
Oscar, I can now assure you that this is no longer the case. We have it in spades and we all seem to want more of it.
Thus I, Foster Redding Unction (commonly shortened to FU) can be your proxy. Allow me to navigate the shoals of worthiness. Bring to light, in the Newtonian sense, clarity of thought, combining a frank discussion and food with a fascinating person of note and have your gastric juices tickled over braised something or other and an absurd amount of wine. Little by little Team Unction will endeavor to elucidate the truth, decry obfuscation and generally make a nuisance of ourselves.
To facilitate these pleasurable experiences I have decided to use my own somewhat excessively grand home in Bellevue Hill as the venue for these Soirees. As according to the Gospel of St.John this fellow Jesus supposedly said “there are many rooms to my fathers house” and I can assure you I am never far from my dining room nor my wine cellar for that matter. I have been known, in fact, to spend entire evenings in the cellar albeit a little worse for wear but nevertheless…
I have also engaged the services of the ridiculously famous and equally unpleasant 16 hat Chef Racine Furtiva, a short man of immense talent and girth. Every week he will provide an unsurpassed culinary delight. These delicious recipes will be published alongside the transcript of my interviews.
I had hoped to provide videos of these marvelous conversations and culinary activities but unfortunately the film-maker, Jackson Speilbotrus who was hired for the purpose has rather inconveniently died. Poor fellow tripped on a cable and was impaled on something or other protruding from his editing desk. It is to be hoped that a suitable replacement may be found.
My intern, Trudy Festival (coming highly recommended by my plumber) will be of some assistance making appointments, answering the door and phones and fiddling about with the cutlery. She is both quiet and discrete. Barely a word passes her lips but when it does it is a much considered one.
I must make mention of my frightfully beautiful wife, Dympha. She can be often spied lounging about with a flute of Krug and an expression of decorous boredom. She insists on smoking her ghastly cheroots inside and she is often proceeded by an acrid bloom of smoke wherever she may roam, and roam she does, mostly sans clothing, interfering in one thing or another.
To say that Dympha and Racine do not hit it off is to make a gross understatement of their relationship. There has been occasion where a physician must be present after some of their ‘conversations’. Dympha has pots and pots of money and I have barely a pot to piss in so it is my interests to keep her sweet. Fortunately the occasional dose of Ritalin seems to placate her.
I am obliged to remark upon a dreadful man, Christian Roughside, who is in charge of IT. The fellow is a clumsy oaf given to dipsomania but from what I hear he is married to one of my siblings…Shana or somebody, so please forgive any technical issues that may arise. Christian can often be found drunk in some tavern going on about the parlous state of affairs in the world. He is an unrepentant womanizer, a hideous bore and a dolt and if anybody sees him lying under a table somewhere tell him he has work to do.