Der gik lidt Edith Piaf i den for mig. Men tanken om at skulle tænke på hvide skjorter og skiveskåret kalkun og samtidig se gennem fingre med hans skøger gør mig ravruskende amerikaner-rasende.
I had a little Edith Piaf moment but the idea of worrying about white shirts and thin turkey and all that while pretending not to know about his whores is really throwing me into an all-American rage.