‘I
have got the Royal-fucking-Suite, dear boys and it is only fitting that we
celebrate our success in the royal manner. Seeing as it is my birthday I wish
to make a speech to mark the occasion. First, I must thank you all for being
here. Then I should point out that we are occupying the Royal Suite and I
suggest that we comport ourselves accordingly. So, dear boys, I give you a
toast: raise your glasses … and chuck them at the fucking wall!’ With that,
Moonie hurls his heavy crystal goblet at a beautiful gilt-framed mirror above
the open fireplace. Then he grabs a half-empty champagne bottle and slings that
at a chandelier, which comes tumble-tinkling down. All the while, Moonie is
screaming: ‘Royal Family? Richard
Burton? Fuck the lot of them! Who gives a fuck about any one of them? I’m Keith
fucking Moon.’
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