You approach the venue with ticket in your hand eagerly wafting it aloft as you enter the ground floor lobby of The Vegas Victoria, a well-known Hotel and entertainment complex owned by the Gotti family.

Before you are two lines of muscle, gristle, stubble and bulging torsos which converge, funnelling you towards a small group of women who take your ticket and show you to the bar area where you are greeted by a live band of Mexican guitars, and some of Striphe's entourage. Even Nora from accounts was there. A special “friend” of the boss who it was rumoured had had that many face-lifts, whenever she tried to smile, the only thing that moved was her left buttock.

Las Vegas was so alive that night you could almost touch it. The smell of expensive liquor and cheap perfume was enough to choke you as you fight your way to the highly polished bar area where cocktails were mixing, and heads were spinning.

The noise created by the multitude of conversations that were taking place grows louder and louder as more people enter the ballroom.

A gap in the sea of faces begins to appear as a number of door attendants cut through the crowd allowing the Mayor of Vegas, Leon Stone, and his wife Matilda, to enter. He was dressed as he always was dressed, in a dark blue Saville Row pinstriped suit, whilst his wife wore a low cut tightly fitting black dress which promoted every inch of her 42" bust, and a tiara, with delicate ostrich feathers adorning its peak.

Striphe was keen to put on a show that night and had invited anybody who was somebody in Vegas and the underworld. He knew whose palm to grease, and grease them he was going to do that night. He had even talked one of his closest and trusted men to perform at the arrival of the mayor and his wife.

Baghdad Barry was renowned throughout the city for his skill at playing the Scottish Bagpipes. His upbringing in that distant country not only gave him the initial skills which he had honed in order to operate within the family business, but it also introduced him to his passion also. The playing of the Scottish pipes.

Now for anyone who is not familiar with the famous Scottish pipes, their sound is an arousing symphony of noise. Much like setting fire to a box full of cats, if you get my drift.

Being a true Scot, and passionate about tradition, Barry was dressed in full National attire which included Kilt, and Sporran and with a large intake of breath, he blew those pipes into life.

The entire room stood motionless and gazed in awe at the wondrous display before them. The beautiful noise that Barry was able to conjure from that bag of wind almost brought the gathering to tears. This was a night to remember indeed, and his performance was an utter delight.

The basement of the complex housed a few dice tables, a roulette wheel and a separate area for “special guests”. The room was quite unusual as it was fitted with a glass ceiling, which enabled all patrons in the lobby and bar to see what was going on beneath. It also enabled the patrons beneath to view what was going on above.

Barry, again being a true Scot, was keen to ensure that his full National dress code was met for this performance, and he was therefore bereft of all undergarments beneath that finely twisted Kilt of his.

The Stig looked at the glass floor, he then caught sight of several patrons beneath gazing upwards towards Barry.

People pointed, two women fainted, The Stig looked at Striphe and Striphe glared at The Stig. People looked at each other as Barry continued with his performance completely unaware of the audience beneath him which grew surprisingly quickly.

Oh bugger, The Stig thought, I forgot the carpet. Jesus…. I am dead! The big guy aint gonna like this one bit.

At this point two of Striphe’s most trusted and personal bodyguards approached him.

One-eyed Stan and the Greek were a formidable pair, and they frog marched him into a  side room closely followed by Striphe. Once inside, he closed the door behind them.

He then turned towards The Stig before producing a long double-bladed knife with decorative handle.

The Stig prepared himself for the inevitable and lowered his gaze to the floor in anticipation of what was to come. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle and twist as Striphe came closer and closer.

My God, he’s going to cut me into pieces and have lampshades made from the skin on my back, thought The Stig.

However, the silence was broken suddenly when Striphe burst into booming laughter.

He knew Striphe took pleasure in these sort of meetings, and so closed his eyes and prepared himself for the inevitable.

Striphe grabbed the Stig’s right hand and made a slight cut on his palm, and this point The Stig opened his eyes slightly.

He then produced a small picture of St Francis, before allowing the blood to cover the small image.

Striphe whispered into the Stig’s ear something only he was able to hear, before bursting into laughter once again before saying……

Stig! The takings tonight at the door and at the tables outweigh any slight oversight on your part.

You are in lad! and die you will in order to get out.!

Welcome into the family proper, welcome!