“Hey, you. Yes, you. I saw you from across the way. Are you new around here? Spageti, nice to meet you. No, not like the pasta. S-P-A-G-E-T-I. Yeah, weird, I know. My parents were Bulgarian, go figure. You alone here tonight? Oh, you are? Very fascinating. You want me to leave you alone? Well, actually, I would be very concerned to leave such a precious gem such as yourself alone in a classless establishment such as this. No really, I insist. Where can I shove my drink? I’m sorry I missed that last bit. Oh, my ass. That’s where I can shove it. Clever. What? No, I’m not gay! What’s wrong with dressing like this? No, the moustache is real. Yep, scruff too. Full beard? No, not me. Good suggestion though. What do you do? Oh, your occupation is not talking to creeps like me? Well, I guess you should get back to work then! Good talking…”

Prince turned away from the woman, his vanity crushed. His new identity as Spageti just wasn’t working… The barstool below his arse felt a little like Neil Diamond that night.