Mr Imp, Life columnist at The Banner, writes about his misadventures as a Don Juan-Esque petty criminal, his odd odysseys abroad and his high jinks with his colourful family in Auchterturra. Cartoons by Dod Dunlop.
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Readers of Mr Imp's column, I, unfortunately, have to inform you that Mr Imp is unwell. This week's column is one of his stock articles he wrote some months ago. Unfortunately, we do not expect to hear from Mr Imp until he is not unwell. Thankfully, he has left us a substantial sum of stock articles about his miscellaneous misadventures. We, the Banner's writing staff, hope you enjoy.
Jack Hebert editor-in-chief
Dear Readers, recently, some relative of mine had gone off to the Bagel, more commonly known as the city that never sleeps, New York. When I heard this, my mind immediately rang alarms because it brought back horrendous memories of my little odyssey in the Bagel a few years back.
"What a dirty place", I thought to myself whilst in a side street in lower Manhattan. All that rubbish, all that tasteless, pointless and artless graffiti and all those giant rats littered the streets. What brought me to a situation where I was stuck, broke and without a plane ticket home? The answer to that question is simple; I came to the Bagel.
To start our story a bit earlier, I had a bit of cash saved up one summer and decided it was time to have a trip. I chose not to travel to the continent and, as I looked around, found a surprisingly good deal for a week in the Bagel. With the knowledge that I had then, I knew the Bagel was known to be glamorous and the capital of the financial world. So, in my mind, I'd go there and see a few sites, try elbow rubbing with the crème de la crème, and find a few big profit opportunities. Most of my information about the Bagel came from probably the worst source, Taki Theodoracopulos, a Greek millionaire who also writes a column called the high life. In this column, he writes of his adventures and interests in the Bagel. Also, he writes about his famous glitzy friends such as Norman Mailer, William Buckley Jr and Ernest Hemmingway.
Unfortunately, the Bagel has significantly changed since Taki Theodoracopulos's times as a young man. Since the end of Rudy Giuliani's stewardship of the city, it has become a giant dumpster fire, which is disturbing when you see it up close.
When I got off the plane and through customs with only mild inconveniences, I came to see New York, the city. It looked like all the postcards with the famous picture of all the skyscrapers. Then I entered an iconic yellow cab and said, take me to central park zoo, please. Some may ask why Central Park Zoo; this is purely because my hotel was next door. When I arrived, I got the shock of my life, $65.79 for the taxi ride, and oh, Sunny Jim, I was not going to pay that without a fight! This resulted in approximately 10 minutes of arguing, which led to the concession of $55 with no tip. Everything about that experience told me never to take a taxi in the Bagel. I swiftly checked into my hotel, dumped my things and got on the move as I had spent eight hours on a plane and was extraordinarily sore, so I needed a good long walk. The first thing I noticed was "what a horrible smell" all I could smell was hot garbage, and it was on fire in my nose. Then I saw my first rat, and these boys were huge! When I first saw these rats, I initially mistook them for little dogs. They were that big and that muscular. Then I looked up and saw ads and billboards everywhere. It was as if I'd entered the film Metropolis and was made even more bizarre as everyone was walking to and fro as if they were robots. "Was this the city that Taki wrote so passionately about?" Seeing all this decay and decadence before my eyes, I thought it was strange, so I immediately retreated to the hotel, only to discover that my room had just been burgled. I had booked in less than an hour ago, and within that time someone broke into my room, nicked my suitcase which contained my plane ticket and some spare money along with all my clothes and toiletries. I immediately contacted the hotel staff, who were not helpful, then I phoned up NYPD, which was a complete and utter waste of time, then I called up the embassy, which of course, would do everything they could except help. To make matters all the more awkward, the hotel's restaurant and, more importantly, kitchen were renovated, which meant their offer of free food for the rest of my stay was redundant.
