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Monte Carlo
28 February 2007
For reasons just too desperately fascinating to bore you with I was in the casino at Monte Carlo last night. Obviously, I was expecting ranks of James Bond’s in white DJs draped with costly blondes. What I got was a disconsolate band of fat, pale men in jeans, a few mass market hookers and some old before their time women dropping ash on the green baize. The staff consisted of amiable but bored waiters and sallow, robotic dealers and croupiers. The games proceeded with machine-like detachment. Nobody, least of all the players, showed the slightest emotion whether they won or lost. This was just what they did, what their lives were. At which point I would remind you that one of Tony Blair’s great legacies to our nation will be super-casinos which, like Monte Carlo, will be little pockets of hell to which people will keep returning like dogs to their vomit. Thanks, Tone.
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