This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

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This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

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This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.

This time it was all about wining and dining.

I found myself in foreign territory. Popped collars, odd looking blazers and moustache laden, cigar smoking odd balls surrounded me. They stank of money.

Sitting at a table with a couple of fat cats with more zeros to their name than the ever increasing cost of a Japanese rebuild, there was one guy in particular reminded me of one H. Hefner, though wearing daytime clothing rather than the standard silk kimono or whatever Hef is into.

He, like, really gets me and stuff....

Picture a well groomed older gentleman, polar neck top, with a blazer over the top, along with the standard issue Country Road trousers and loafers.

He is pretty well known around these parts and though into his 70′s, he has an eye for the ladies. And the ladies knew it.

To look at him, you would say he was a gentleman as you continued your glance around. Factor in his known wealth, and ladies were quite literately throwing themselves at him.

We were at this event for about 4 hours. In that time, as the wine kicked in, dutch courage kicked in, hair was let down, boobs were propped up and the ladies, whose ages ranged from mid-twenties through to the Cougarish mid-fifties all had a crack.

Whispers in the ear, innuendoes laid out, hair flcks, gentle arm brushes and this guy didn’t have to move a muscle.

At one point, he mentioned he held the record for being the owner of multiple winning greyhounds that had landed him $900K in winnings in just the last year and a half and 3 of the ladies started gushing, one even slipped off her seat, to which he just pissed himself laughing.

It's actually a roll of cash in my pocket....

One of the more Cougarish ladies, who was more sucked in and pushed out than the others, turned to me and under her breath tells me that this guy was worth about 80 million Great British Pounds. Fuck me. Well, it was more about fuck him.

The whole time he was there, he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls who laughed at his stupid jokes and got off with his comments about his cliff top mansion and cars. Amazing. Come on Powerball!!!

“The best things in life are free…..”

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