Publisher's Synopsis
'Like an acne ridden teenager Vienna is a lot sexier at night. You drive through vast streets lined with grand hotels all with a matching concierge. The Triest Hotel has one of those heavy doors designed to keep out the riff-raff as well as the Austrian winters. Inside it's all hushed and marbled and the reception desk bares just one tropical flower. The staff are minimalist as well. The receptionist looks like she may well be a close personal friend of Kate Moss and Meg Gallagher but I can forgive her because her English is much better than my German and the Blue Danube FM website didn't have a translation for 'I'm knackered and shivering and it would be lovely if I could have a cheese sandwich and some Lemsip asap.' Apparently Johnny Depp has stayed at the Trieste in Vienna and liked it very much. Which isn't saying much. These days you can guarantee that every hip hotel in the world has either entertained him, Liz Hurley or the Dalai Lama. Whoever stayed in my room last night has left a London phone number on the note pad. I'm tempted to phone but I don't want to wake Patsy up.'
