Parisian
Playboy

Living large comes at a cost, not that he cares. Just before his birth, Mum got left a lump sum by a mysterious musical millionaire: he’s managed to swerve an honest days work ever since. After buying a vineyard in the Champagne region  (where else?), some said his taste for the grape became too great, claims met with an unequivocally firm “Non! Non! Non!”.Getting high off his own supply fuels the ‘Serge of creativity’ he insists. The resultant poetics are then uttered, often indecipherably, into a dusty reel-to-reel. The only thing as strong as his love for the sauce? His insatiable need to ‘duet’ with French fancies.

“Je t’aime... moi non plus” 

 “Pint of Pinot noir s’il vous plaît”.