Schadenfreude is such a wonderful word. Not as wonderful as 'pantaloons', or 'fish', but it more than makes up for that by being a bastard to spell. And it describes perfectly my reaction to the news that Israel's ambassador to El Salvador has been sacked, after police found him outside the Israeli embassy, pissed as a fart and nekkid as the day he was born*. Well, except for the bondage gear he was wearing.

They had to take a ball gag out of his gob before he could confirm who he was.

I would personally like to thank the Israeli Foreign Office for getting Ambassador Tzuriel Refael to don his favourite rubber-wear in order to promote BROKEN SKIN. Yes, he was supposed to wait till May when the book comes out, before exposing himself (literally) to the world, but beggars can't be choosers.

Now I met a number of people into the bondage scene when I was researching the book, and they were all very nice, staggeringly normal people. Bondage is a serious business to them, it's their sexuality, and we all know what happens when you make fun of people's sexuality. You become a cock-weasel. Well, unless they're turned-on by dead bodies, livestock, or Nana Mouskouri -- then you can feel free to rip the piss out of them till the cows, Greek singers with bizarre central partings, and/or zombies come home.

But surely if you're representing your country's government in a foreign land, you should be bright enough to get up to whatever it is that floats your rubber duck in private! Not only was Ambassador Refael found wearing his favourite little number, he was also bound and gagged. So it's not as if he was in the middle of something intimate, then had to go answer the door. Maybe to sign for a parcel, or pay the milkman? And his dressing gown gets caught in the door as it slams shut with him on the wrong side... you know: the sort of thing that happens on Benny Hill and Carry On Up The Smutty Franchise films. No, he was tied up as well. And everyone knows you should never try to pay the milkman when you're bound hand and foot -- it's impossible to reach your wallet. That's just rude. Much better to just pretend you're not in, so he'll come back later. Unless you have some sort of urgent, kinky need for peach melba yoghurt.

And can you imagine what the rest of this poor, demented sod's life's going to be like? "I work for twenty six years in the service of my country, and do they call me Refael the consensus builder? No! I slave in the foreign office, brokering deals between seemingly irreconcilable antagonists, but do they call me Refael the peace maker? No! I build orphanages with my own hands, but do they call me Refael the saintly? No! I wake up outside the embassy, tied up and pissed as a fart in my rubber nun's outfit ONE TIME..."

* With thanks to Agent Phil for the link -- he swears he came across it in all innocence, and not because he was surfing for dodgy bondage porn during work hours. Honest.

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