The Paparazzo Game

Whenever we get together, Stense and I like nothing better than to play the Paparazzo Game. It's dead easy to play, and great fun for almost both of the contestants.

Basically, the Paparazzo Game is a rôle-playing game in which one of you (in our case, Stense) plays an A-list celebrity chick who has got herself embroiled in some tawdry, titillating scandal, while the other player (in our case, yours truly) plays top paparazzo photographer and guttersnipe, Ricardo Carteri, who has been hired by failing Italian scandal rag Il Grutzia to get some exclusive shots of said chick for their website.

Speak to the hand… Stense is so good at this game.

The challenge for the celebrity chick is to avoid getting photographed altogether, or to spoil the paparazzo's photos by obscuring her face with anything that happens to come to hand (which, in most cases, is her actual hand). The challenge for the paparazzo is to obtain unobscured shots of said chick—preferably with her jugs out.

Apart from that, as with the real paparazzi, there are absolutely no rules: the paparazzo can use any sneaky, underhanded trick he likes to try to obtain the exclusive shots.

As luck would have it, after a fantastic day out in Conwy last Friday (photos here), Stense and I found ourselves in an exclusive yet discreet Chester hotel. Now, I know what you're thinking, but there might be a perfectly innocent explanation… But what better place to play the Paparazzo Game?

So play it we did. And, I am proud to announce, I rose to the occasion magnificently by coming up with two of the sneakiest, underhandedest tricks in the history of the game: I conveniently neglected to tell Stense that we were actually playing the game, and I waited until her hands were full before I pulled out my camera.

"That is so not fair!" complained Stense, immediately conceding defeat. But any tactic is fair in the Paparazzo Game—that's the whole point:

To cap it all, if you study the above footage from timestamp 00:01 to 00:04 very carefully, you can quite clearly see both of Stense's jugs, captured for posterity.

What is that unusual smell wafting into my flaring nostrils? Why, yes, I believe it must be none other than the sweet smell of VICTORY!

Richard Carter

A fat, bearded chap with a Charles Darwin fixation.


  1. Nice jugs.

    We are just back from "holiday" in Hong Kong. I use the quotes because it was largely the type of Hell whichcan only be generated by a two-year-old with bronchitis in the most polluted city in the world, combined with a 13-hour flight, madly over-zealous doctorsand a hotel which has lost your reservation. Really. It was the sort of nightmare you simply couldn't make up.

    Anyway, much of the point of this trip was to attend a wedding. Don't know if you've been to a HK wedding, but this was half game-show, half Hollywood, half-mad and mostly appalling. The groom, in my personal opinion, should not require glitter in his hair. Nor does a wedding require a phone-in quiz.

    In any case, the one redeeming part of the whole insanity was a dozen-course Chinese meal of the most beautiful and amazing food. This did, however, make me think of your comment that you hate drinking good whisky out of cheap glasses; This wonderful meal was served not with a nice Sancerre or a chilled Chablis, but with something rather like Sunny Delight. I could have cried.

  2. Don't you just hate it when they do that?

    I have visited HK twice, and I did once spot a wedding party having their photos taken in some gardens. No matter where you go in the world, wedding parties always look a bit odd. I saw a right odd looking one in Italy earlier this year: a bunch of Japanese had travelled all the way to Florence just to get hitched.

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