Last weekend I headed back to the hostel for pre-club drink or two and was introduced to Miss Argentina. A friend of a friend’s date it would turn out (himself a model, naturally enough). She’s only eighteen and, perhaps because of it, though poised, she is charmingly bereft of any of the haughty arrogance that I tend to associate with models ….She lives with her Gran, kindly corrects my verb conjugations and wants to try my Chesterfields (though she can’t be photographed with one). Later, at the club, I momentarily flatter myself that she is looking impressed by my dancing, but more likely it was expertly disguised bewilderment.
 However I think my related anecdote about the scene in True Romance with Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper went some way over her head. (She probably wasn't born when it came out after all).