MADAME BANANA DISCUSSES HER “LIFE” WITH THE BLOATED PRINCE OF GAS-RICH QATAR
MNS: Thank you so much,Madame Banana for giving us this opportunity to speak to you.
BANANA: It’s such a relief to be able to speak my mind. (Breaks into tears) Boo hoo hooo.
MNS: What makes you so sure your husband is trying to kill you?
BANANA: He has a pattern, you know. When he had his brother Ahmad killed he would refer to him as JFK. Before he killed his father, he called him Mussolini. Then, he started calling me Princess Diana. Sometimes I was Indira or Benazir. Two days ago he called me Anne Boleyn. What is he saying now? Joan of Arc? (Breaks into sobs)
MNS: Heavens, I certainly hope not. Can you tell us why you took up residence here across from the Polish Embassy in Dubai?
BANANA: Oh, now he’ll know where I’m at. Please don’t publish this.
MNS: Absolutely not. We are responsible journalists. But, let me go back: why the Polish Embassy?
BANANA: Because, I’m not Arabic. I am really Polish. My husband’s such a dupa! My family name is Glumpski.
MNS: How did you wind up marrying Prince Drum Son of Double Drum?
BANANA: (Leans forward and whispers) You won’t publish this, will you?
MNS: Absolutely not. It would be a violation of the Uniform Journalistic Code of Ethics.
BANANA: I was in Sicily doing what Americans call “tricks”. Fatso was in Palermo scouting for orphaned male ten year olds. I was set up with him when a local Cosa Nostra bigwig thought he was straight and paid me some money. Well, it all sounds improbable, but, he needed to have a wife for appearances and he told me a pack of lies. I didn’t know he was partial to little boys. (Sobs) I didn’t know I would marry a sex freak of nature. Boo hoo hoo.
MNS: Well, how did you have children with him? I mean, he’s got a thing for little boys.
BANANA: All our children were fathered by Francois Hollande before he became president of France. You see, Hollande told my husband he could only have bastards. The idea of legitimate children made him ill. Boo hoo hoo. Do you know what it’s like to sleep with a Frenchman?
MNS: It must have been dreadful.
BANANA: He wouldn’t brush his teeth. He said he like to produce children with the taste of pate de foie in his mouth. He was very strange.
MNS: And, of course, there is the issue of pork, no?
BANANA: Pork? I’m Polish. I love pork. And I was married to a pig! For Heaven’s sake!
MNS: Interesting. Hmm. What about the prince’s recent kidney transplants? Is it true that an American hog’s organs were used successfully?
BANANA: Oh, yes! It worked perfectly because Fatso’s cellular structure is like a pig’s. His personal doctor, that horrible Baldur Hasenpfeffer, was surprised. He thought a monkey’s would work better. And he tried to turn me into a monkey too!! Boo hoo hoo.
MNS: Oh my gosh! What do you mean?
BANANA: I knew I was not attractive to Fatso. I heard him talk to Dr. Baldur about some stupid new technique he (the doctor) was developing to change the cellular structure of Qataris…you know….they eat a lot of bananas here for a reason. The doctor was trying to see if he could reverse what he called the Affe-Umbildungsfortschreit. He told Fatso he could make me into an ape. And that’s what he’s married to now. Boo hoo hoo.
MNS: You mean his new wife is an ape?
BANANA: Yes, here’s her picture. (Hands photo to Ogden) Please don’t show it to anyone. It’s so embarrassing!
MNS: Did the treatment work. Did you become more of an ape?
BANANA: It made no difference to him. He’d always be with those little boys. I got hairier. He got fatter. It was a no-win situation. So, when I started to complain about that horrible Hollande character, he made the decision to kill me. I’m so lonely. Boo hoo hoo. But he finds his new wife more attractive. I am going to expose him. Can I leave with you, by the way?
MNS: Of course, but, we’re on our way to Qatar to interview Dr. Hasenpfeffer. Maybe another time.
End of interview.