U.N. Me

MAÎTRE D':
Good evening sir. And welcome to the Ambassador's Dining Room.


JB:
Yuh, stow it. The only reason I'm here tonight is tell the northern half of Africa where to get off. Just point me to their table and make it snappy.


MD:
Certainly, sir. May I see your credentials?


JB:
My credentials haven't been printed yet. You want to make something out of it? God damn bunch of foreign bureaucrats. I'm getting at least two of them fired before the sun comes up.


MD:
Good luck with that. I am sorry, Monsieur. We must see your credentials for you to dine with us. No cred, no bread.


JB:
You better watch your step, dink weed. I am an ambassador. I am on your list of ambassadors.


MD:
I will be happy to look for you on the list of ambassadors, Mr. Ambassador. You are Ambassador.....


JB:
Bolton.


MD:
Like Boltin' Joe DiMaggio?


JB:
That was Joltin' Joe DiMaggio.


MD:
You are back? We thought you had left and gone away. Hey hey hey.


JB:
Don't try to act American. My name is John Bolton.


MD:
Well, Monsieur, why didn't you say so?


JB:
Am I on your list?


MD:
No you are not. Good evening.


JB:
I am Ambassador John Bolton.


MD:
You are the Ambassador from what country?


JB:
I am the Ambassador from the United States.


MD:
The United States does not have an ambassador. The United States Senate has refused to confirm the nomination made by its president.


JB:
I was given a recess appointment, which is perfectly legal under Article II of the Constitution. Don't you people read TV Guide? Don't you know anything?


MD:
The United States does not have an ambassador to the United Nations. The United States despises the United Nations and a very important person in its State Department believes the United Nations should be put into a plastic bag and taken to a sanitary land fill.


JB:
Alright, I know I said that, but that's no reason to not let me eat dinner.


MD:
May I suggest the Howard Johnsons on 46th Street and Broadway.


JB:
I have an appointment letter right here from the president of the United States.


MD:
The president of the United States doesn't write letters. He text messages with his Blueberry.


JB:
That's Blackberry. He has a Blackberry.


MD:
Not according to People magazine.


JB:
This letter is my credential.


MD:
It has not been approved by the secretary-general.


JB:
Then call the secretary-general and get it approved.


MD:
The secretary-general is not in his office.


JB:
How do you know that?


MD:
I watch Oprah.


JB:
Is he at a famine? Everytime I call him, he's at some famine. And I am plenty sick of it. Where is the secretary-general?


MD:
He is in the Ambassador's Dining Room having dinner.


JB:
He's here? He himself, the grand poobah of this whole cesspool of corruption? Then I suggest you try to avoid getting fired tonight and go get him.


MD:
The secretary-general is not to be disturbed during dinner.


JB:
I don't want to disturb him, I just want to punch his stupid face in.


MD:
I believe that in the best interests of international relations, you would be advised to obtain temporary credentials instead.


JB:
I'll bet I have to pay good money for them, don't I. How do I get temporary credentials?


MD:
We will arrange to take you to the office where temporary credentials are issued.


JB:
And where is that?


MD:
I cannot tell you. We have security procedures.


JB:
I have top security clearance.


MD:
Not according to Entertainment Tonight. But it is not a long trip, Mr. Ambassador. Go down that hallway, take the stairs six flights up to the roof.


JB:
The roof?


MD:
Yes. The roof.


JB:
And then what do I do?


MD:
You get into the black helicopter and we'll take care of the rest.