They effused breathlessly about the vintage, not knowing the host's cruel bottle switch deception.

She was not one for sentiment but she spared him a thought nonetheless as she scattered the bottle of sleeping pills on the floor of his villa and walked out.

His laugh cut short by a sudden elbow jab to the head, the only sound remaining was the canned tinkle of elevator music.

'Don't even think you can impress me by telling me you do yoga', she says. 'I will twist you into shapes you can't even imagine'.

So she says, 'What makes you think I've had too much to drink?'. I open the car door. She ROTCL (rolls out the car laughing). Yep. QED.