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Sabena's Log - April 12, 1988, Cambridge University

Whatever way you look at Salim, he's not your average nineteen year old. With his private plane on standby, speedboat, sports car, in town penthouse, out of town country pile and a string of staff ready to service his every whim, Salim Al Douri is an industry in himself.

I soon realised that whatever Salim wants, he gets.

He got me, that's for sure. But for Salim, I'm not enough. I always knew that would be the case. You see, Salim has a large appetite. He likes to taste a range of dishes from many different places.

So, to ensure I continue to pique his interest, I've devised a scheme, or rather a game. By partaking in such endeavours, Salim can always enjoy a varied and plentiful menu. And I can continue to reign over Salim’s extracurricular life.

It’s been very easy. My peers here are so pliable. So effortlessly influenced. Salim and I have displayed a life style of sheer excess. And now everyone wants to be with us. Whatever the association, however tenuous the link, being with Salim and I gives serious credibility. We're the beautiful ones, the brilliant ones. The ones to be with…And those fawning fools will do anything we say just to savour the crumbs from our table.

It's such fun, knowing that all I have to say to all those pert young freshers is "Do you wanna be in my gang?"

It’s an invitation none can refuse.

Salim loves theatre. The cellar we use for our little ‘initiation games’ has been decked out like the set of Caligula, which given the activities conducted beneath the hallowed seat of learning, is very in-keeping.

I watch them walk through the door hidden by the heavy scarlet curtain. Fearful yet full of anticipation. You can see their skin glowing, their movements awkward, hesitant but at the same time yearning to know more. They’ve all heard the stories, we’ve intentionally promulgated. But the truth is somewhat different. Once they enter, they will never be the same again.

But they know to be in with Salim and I, they have to take that final step.

It’s strange. None are coerced. None are forced. It is their own free will that drives them over the threshold into the world beyond the curtain. In their eyes, everything is told.

Explaining why.

The twinkling desperation in their bright innocent eyes. They want so much to be accepted, to be thought of on par with Salim and I. Whatever it takes, they’ll do it.

And that feeling, knowing they’ll follow you blind, knowing that you have ultimate control, complete domination over their pathetic lives. That, is the greatest high of all…

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