I've only just flown over yesterday on the fucking Concorde and, despite my jetlag, managed to enjoy the awesome fucking party that Jon threw for me upon my arrival. I explained to him that I couldn't possibly fucking enjoy the fucking festivities until I knew that my pool cleaning kit was in a secure place. I mean, you just can't get some of that shit over here.
Cher was at the party; she began to enquire about my services almost right fucking away. I was just like "Cher, Cher, let me relax a little. I'm fucking jetlagged already." I suspect she might be some kind of fucking philistine who really doesn't appreciate the time and effort it really fucking takes to keep one pool as fucking sparkling awesome as every pool should be. I might have harmed her feelings. What can I say? When you're doing what you're born to do and strive to be the fucking best, sometimes people get hurt.
I was having a hard time sleeping due to the time difference, so when I woke in the early hours before fucking anyone else, I immediately set about the job I was hired to do. Jon wanted to know why I'd started so soon after arriving. I can't believe I had to explain it to him. After all, it's what he brought me here to do. He seemed surprised. "That's fucking awesome!" he says. What can I say? I take pride in my fucking job.