Well hello there.
I see you've caught me preparing for my new life in Monaco a.k.a. The Berba's Playland. Though it's only a loan until the end of the season, my body is tingling over the mere thought of soaking in the Riviera the same way I imagine yours tingles when we lock eyes just before I offer you an erotic massage on a crowded bus. The yachts, the glamor, the Berba-babes and the other things that I will read about on Wikipedia later.
When Falcao got hurt, Monaco obviously wouldn't find a striker as talented to replace him in the middle of the season, so they smartly decided to acquire one more seductive to replace him. ... No, that doesn't mean they signed Nicklas Bendtner. They signed me. The Berba. The new king of Monte Carlo. During the day, I will take leisurely drives around the Monaco Grand Prix course in my carpeted van. At night, I will double my untaxed wages playing baccarat in the casino while sipping Berbatinis — the only cocktail that combines four different powerful colognes with gin. Prince Albert will quickly become my Berba-buddy until we have a falling out over Princess Charlene's inevitable attraction to my mayonnaisy musk. And, in my free time, I will also play some football. Ha-HA!
Of course, I am sad to leave England. It has been my home for many years now and I have met many wonderful people who promised to sleep with me at some undetermined point in the distant future. But I simply could not turn the first-class style that Monaco has to offer. I know that my cousin Timitar Berbatov and I will become the toast of the social scene amongst the principality's rich and powerful residents. We will have to shave Timitar's back and get him a shirt that doesn't advertise free mustache rides, but that will only require a few weeks to accomplish.
By now you are surely wondering why The Berba is still telling you all of this through the flimsy door of a public bathroom stall, though. Well, I want you to come to Monaco with me. Just think of all the sensual adventures you and I could have while Timitar films it all with his VHS camcorder. Together we can make Zlatan Ibrahimovic very jealous...and slightly aroused. Ha-HA!
As an added enticement, I will even give you this shirt that I just got for free...
Oh-OHHH! You have thrown my new shirt back in my face and refused my offer of glitz and perpetual stickiness on the Riviera. Oh, this is such devastating news. Surely you just need more time to consider such a handsome and debonair opportunity. Once I've set up a ricotta cheese filled hot tub in the Palace of Monaco, I will give a chance to change your mind. Ha-HA!
Join us again next time for another chapter in the life of...The Continental...
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