Dear Ueli, I write to you from a big and cosy hotel room where I am having a light schlafgut tea with my old friends – I am just like you: I gave up any alcoholic beverage after 6 pm in order to sleep better and have a more effective digestion.
It is not that I had roesti or so after the concert, but you know how late dinners or even suppers can be heavy after 60.
I just wanted to tell you, dear Ueli, that I saw you from the stage during our gig (despite your big FA-18 cap and your swiss military poncho) and that your visible enthousiasm listening to me and my band moved me a lot. I could even hear distinctively your voice when you screamed satisfaction after I sang I can get no… Do you know you have a wonderful voice?
Considering your responsabilities at the head of swiss army, considering too the trouble you went through with this damn f… airplane your people stupidely refused to acquire (what was its name again? Griffin? Grissini?), I would have understood that you did not show up at the Letzigrund Stadium, and prefered listening Sympathy for the devil in your appartment.
It is not what you did and I want to express my gratitude for this.
Next time you come to a concert of mine, I would be pleased to invite you on the stage, dear Ueli. We could sing together and you could maybe explain – or even sing! – your roof metaphor (the plane is the roof / the country is the house – do I say it properly?) in front of a bigger audience. I am sure these bastards would correctly get the picture this time.
And after the show we could have a schlafgut tea or something and talk quietly about planes, rock’n’roll, peace, love, age, or any subject that would please you.
In any case, send me a sms, dear Ueli, or even an e-mail if your computers are fixed now.
Truly yours,
Mick Jagger
