Or Queen knights paleotard. Whatever.
I was actually on the google plane over to Larry's wedding when I got the call. My iPhone lit up with a royal crest as we banked over some tropical island. I knew the call would come one day so I'd added her Royal Highness in to the address book as one of the first things I did with this pure beauty.
I'll be honest, I was a little dissapointed that they only wanted my advice and at that point I just wanted to land, wash and get naked in the hot tub with the Bransons. Necker island has a lot to offer I'm thinking. But then, what a great oppertunity this is to get to Blue Level Googler? Naturally I mentioned Larry and Sergey but there's all this nonsense about not doing enough for blighty or the commonwealth and not being citizens and all that.
I wasn't aware that someone had put the oil tanker in to full rudder deflection and would be launching Open Space (it remains to be seen if the rudder snaps off of course), so I thought keep your friends close, your enemies closer. So I said Vanessa. Vanessa Laurence.
I'm really not sure what she does any more but she's still 'officially' head of paleo-land and the award should inflate that head by another few hundred PSI. Perhaps just enough to pop or float away... then when the call goes out maybe I could get back to running OS if the Blue Level doesn't work out. With a bloke in charge I'm sure we'd have things ship-shape in no time.
But I'm babbling again. I thanked her most britannic majesty for thinking of me and sat back to think about the parties ahead on the island. It was a blast but I'll save those stories for after I've re-read the NDA - there are actual clauses about not mentioning what happens at Mr Page's events.