Sylvester Stallone's Agent Is in Da House

Just as I was leaving aunties - via the bar and 3 G&T's I bumped into a distinguished chap. Had an accent from 1940 Hollywood (if you know what I mean ladies!).

Could I restrain myself? Barely!

While helping 'Jimmy' dab off some red wine - using spit and towelling - he whispered that he had a difficulty.

Being secure and sheltered in the cubicle - I urged him to speak freely - I am - if nothing else - a quintessentially trust worthy friend, mentor and confident.

His 'client'. Mr Sylvester Stalion needs a new Kidney. Not for health reasons - purely recreational endurance.

I understood everything and felt supremely confident within his arms.

The difficulty Jimmy had was with the provenance of the organ.

As you probably all know those clever science bods in Yankyville have perfected ‘Willie Wonker/Star Trek’ beam technology.

I.e. the ability to break an item into billions of pieces and re-create that item – perfectly formed, feet, yards or even miles from pick-up.

The computing/light…. thingy processing is so enormous that the Science Bods do keep the samples small and simple. Like a Willie Wonker Chocolate Bar or a human organ.

The Provenance of Sylvester’s Kidney comes from pre-death, death row inmates. These young fit lads are perfect hosts… their meals and exercise is ordered and consistent. The lads are in peak condition.

One day they wake without a Kidney.. if they wake at all? They give something back to society (wealthier members of society) and I’m sure somewhere in their feral brains they feel a stab of pride.

Sylvester's issue is - he doesn't want an organ from a bad person... he feels it's sullied, dirty... I suppose you could say - tinged with Evil?

I insisted Jimmy take me to Mr Stallone at ONCE. I'd never heard anything so flim flam feeble before. And coming from a big Hollywood bod!

18 hours later I was laying by the Pool of Jimmy's Cottage (only Americans could call a 18 bedroom Mansion a Cottage:0) . Sheepishly and distracted Sylvester strutted in.

I tapped a towel covered stool - beckoning Sylver to join me.

I whispered "Do you like Steak?"

Sylve laughed - such an silly question to ask an American muscle man. He assumed I was a simpleton...

I was the master of this verbal chess game.. Slowely Slowely Catchee Monkey...)

I got dressed into my silk LA pjs and led Sylv to the table. My cook - Mr Eagle - was BBQing steaks. The smell was intoxicating.

"When you eat that rare steak, with Worchestershire Sauce and mushrooms, and you chew it in your mouth - how do you feel?"

Sylvester got close to my face "A man eats meat - meat is good"

Mr Eagle served two fat rare steaks. Almost as big as a mans fist. My mouth salivated as I tossed my eyes from Steak to Sly to Steak to Sly.

Sly and I stared at each other as we chewed and cut and fed ourselves.

Swallowing hard I cleared my mouth. As I wiped the juice from my chin I said "What if this steak came from a bull. A bull that went wild and stampeded. In that stampede the Bull killed a small child. Would the steak be bad?

Sly laughed an open and full mouth laugh.. The laugh of Goliath as David appeared with a sling.

I let him roll his eyes and pick his teeth then I jabbed again "So the meat isn't bad. The meat isn't condemned for the actions of the Bulls brain?"

"No you strange Brit - of course not" Sly smirked

"So why dismiss the organs of a Convict? That Kidney didn't break the law... it was the brain - the brain that did wrong. As a modern society we must be able to seperate the organs from the brain. The skin from the bones." I dazzled Sly using my Obama nation style.

Sylvia was dumb struct. He leant over and with a mouth full of mushrooms he kissed me full on the mouth. I felt like a little bird being fed by its mumma.