Magical Fashion Island

A lot of people have been asking me why The Magical Fashion Island in Dubai isn't going ahead. "Lack of funds", I said. "People aren't made of money these days."

"They were before?" said the people.

"Some of them. The Rothschilds were- that's why that had umbrellas, to stop themselves getting soggy. They always had umbrellas, those Rothschilds. Now they use plastic money."

"Does Bill Gates use plastic money?"

"Ah, well, he's not the sort to have a melting cesspool of credit cards all over him- he uses imaginary money. It works just the same, if everybody believes in it. It's like that Tinkerbell person, you know."

"-Off Peter Pan."

"Quite. If you believe in anything enough it'll be true. That's why I'm still alive- because I don't believe in death."

"Oh?"

"I don't "do" death. It is not for me. Other people, maybe- if they're into that sort of thing. The problem with death is that it's very hard to undo once one has done it, and what if death goes out of fashion?"
"..."

"Well, then one would be demode. You can't reinvent yourself either. Elvis did- he lost weight. I didn't have to die to lose weight. In any case, why The Magical Fashion Island didn't work is because people didn't believe in it hard enough."

At this point the people were escorted outside by my butler, and I sat down to read the newspapers. In The Guardian there was an article with the words "Are women hard-wired to enjoy cupcakes?"

"Stunning journalism", I muttered to myself. I called Anna. "Do you like cupcakes?"

"No," she replied. I called Diana. She did not like cupcakes. I called Carine and she vomited on the mere premise of cupcakes. Finally, I talked to my friend Gertrude Stein, who pointed out that the article was as ridiculous as saying "are men hard-wired to enjoy meat?"

"The article asks that probing question too", I said. Gertrude rolled her eyes. I wondered how on earth anybody would come up with the assumption that Women Enjoy Cupcakes. What about staplers, hm? Are office-workers hard-wired to enjoy staplers? Are pizza-makers hard-wired to enjoy pizza-slicers? Why is there so much wiring, anyway?

I threw The Guardian on the floor and stomped on it with my one-size-too-small shoes. Hard hitting journalism indeed. I asked Helmut if he wanted to take a photo, and I asked him how death was working out. He mentioned an orgy.

Above: Artist's rendering of Magical Fashion Island.