““I don’t fecking believe it,” Uncle Coilin grumbled. “I could put up with the French, the Italians, the Americans, the Chinese, the Russians.” He continued a list that seemed to take several minutes to complete before concluding: “but I never thought you’d end up with a fecking Englishman.” Hayden stared at Karla open-mouthed. “Is there any nationality you haven’t slept with?” She mused for a few moments. “No-one from Tibet.” “You have some prejudice against Tibetans?” She shook her head. “No. I’ve just never met the right one. Yet.” A grin slowly spread across her face. “Mind you, I bet the Dalai Lama would be awesome.” “I don’t think he has sex.” Waving her hand, she looked at Hayden with mild contempt as Coilin sank his head into his hand. “That’s just marketing and PR bullshit,” she explained breezily. “I bet you, he’d be fantastic in the sack. I mean, it wouldn’t be like shagging the Pope - you know, all kinky shit and getting me to dress up as a young girl. No, he’d be a Tantric master. He’d keep me in a state of orgasm for hours.” Hayden sighed. “I don’t know which is worse: your perverse grasp of theology or the fact you fantasise about sex with the world’s religious leaders.” “It’s the only way to bring us together in peace and harmony,” she replied, smiling sweetly.””
