If Pondelia Whimsy has a personal orchestral composer, I simply must have one as well! To think of all the time I’ve been wasting, simply summoning symphony orchestras into my personal entertainment parlour to play music written for other people. Oh, the shame of it!
From now on, all of my music shall be written for me, and me alone. In fact, everything in my life must be custom-made, unlike most things I currently own. I don’t even want to breathe the same air as everyone else. Perhaps I shall arrange for a special blend of oxygen with various mild perfumes and spices, topped with a hint of vanilla, which only I may inhale.
Never again shall I simply have custom glass stair balustrades installed, willy-nilly. They shall be glass stair balustrades for me, and me only. They will have… er, what features will they have?
Golly, personalising balustrades is quite hard. It’s hard to take such an iron-clad classic and place your own spin on it. They’ve already achieved maximum elegance, so how can they be improved? I should’ve paid more attention to Pondelia’s balustrading last time I was at one of her galas, instead of interrogating the staff about where they sourced the finger food and making targeted, snippy comments about the century in which her decorative vases were created.
“Sixteenth century, more like sick-teenth stench-ury, tee-hee!”
It was quite the sick burn, but now I have to wait until the next event to have good look at her balustrading. And even then, perhaps I’ll find that it’s stock-standard, with even the great Madame Whimsy unable to make improvements to such an opulent mainstay.
That would give me the advantage. I’ve already found the perfect glaziers. Melbourne shall tremble at my personalised glass panes, two millimetres thicker than usual. That design is all me! Copyright me, patented by me. It’s mine.
-Carlita Conchita Benita Paprika