On flight from LA to New York, Princess Stéphanie of Monaco and her then-significant other, a chap called Oliver, sat behind me. I wanted to strike up a conversation with them for three reasons. First, she left the First Class lav a total sloppy mess and I was going to offer that this was very poor form for a Grimaldi. Second, I wished to introduce myself to Oliver so we could share jocose tales about our shared Oliverness and, third, I was going to note leaving your giant fucking sunglasses on for the entire five and a half hour flight while the window shades were lowered was attention-seeking codswallop of the first water. I was dissuaded from these conversational gambits by my companion who urged me to focus instead on Supermodel Cindy Crawford sitting across the way. This I did. Still it was a Grimaldi-soaked month for me. Here’s what happened.
© 2024 John Oliver
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