Transcribed from: Comedy CentralScott: I'm feeling so "Francais" tonight--it's just because I *adore* Montreal, I do! And I don't just love Montreal because of it's bagels or it's civilized drinking hours, or even it's hashish. No. What I love most about Montreal most is it's *men* - *MMM*! Especially it's *fags*. Montreal, you should stop boasting about that dumb hockey team, and start talking proud about your tapets. Ils sont fantastique! And I don't just say that 'cause I always fall in love there. It's just that there, they usually fall back. [audience laughter and Buddy making his trademark "Mmm.." sound.]
Transcribed by: KdsInThHal@aol.com
I fell in love my very first time in Montreal. Mmm. I must have been all of twelve years old. His name was Mario. He was an older boy - about forty. [audience laughs uproariously] Please, now please! Stop it be mature. Don't get all excited, I was already jaded. You see, I had a very accelerated childhood. My parents were international diamond theives. We traveled all over the world, especially North Africa, so I knew the score.
One day we were on our way from Vancouver to Tangier, and we had to make a little petite stop over in Montreal. I left my parents briefly at the airport to buy myself a fashion magazine. And when I returned, the plane was gone and so were they. ["Aw's" from audience] Yes, just the smell of my mother's Chanel Number Five *haaanging* in the air. That's probably why I *hate* Katherine Deneuve so much.
All I had with me was 37 cents and a *big* diamond ring worth about two million dollars. I figured that would keep me going for about a month. There was only one solution. I had to find my self a sugar daddy, tout de suite! Then, conveniently, as if from heaven, this very good looking man who looked sort of like Omar Sharief came over, and asked me if I'd ever done any nude modeling or posed for wrestling photos. I said "of course"; I mean what kid *hasn't*? And that's how I started my modeling career.
This of course was Mario. Mario fell *maaadly* in love with me, and I moved into his charming little flat with a *fabulous fire* escape in a working class French neighbourhood where, everyone spoke in a rough and jaunty jouel. I, however spoke French with a refined, Parisian accent which made people think I was a snob. Luckily I was; so I didn't mind.
I stayed with Mario for six months, which when you're twelve is an *awful* long time, yes! It's one twenty-fourth of your whole life! Now at my age six months is nothing. I take six months to return a phone call.
But nothing lasts forever, except poetry readings. And especially not love, which is where the mounties came in. It turns out Mario was border line retarded. And I was arrested for the corruption for an imbosil. I got six months. Oh well, the story of my life.