Capri 2012: The Italian Job

For their latest adventure abroad, Benoit Viellefon & The Hot Club were enlisted for quite a mission. Just imagine a mixture of James Bond and The Italian Job, and you’ll be close to the reality.

Benoit and the Hot Club were booked to perform for a mysterious client on a 1929 luxury Yacht off the coast of the Italian Isle of Capri, but the name of the client or the type of event was undisclosed. As with Mission Impossible, we accepted the mission before the email self destructed – here is our mission report:

Firstly, we were told that a driver would come to pick us up at 4am on the 3rd of July and that we only needed a white tuxedo, some ray bans and our instruments.

From there our drivers took us to the next meeting points with yet other agents of this mysterious target. From there we were taken in every type of vehicle that you can imagine: London Private chauffeur, Gatwick express train, Plane to Napoli, Italian taxi that tried to kill us to stop our mission, Hydrofoil to the Isle of Capri ( some kind of flying/hovering speed boat), stretch Fiat Puntos Cabriolet (too long to negotiate the mountain roads safely) with a parasol on top, Donkeys up the hill, walk down to a secret beach, getting picked up by two undercover crews on a speed boat, to finally arrive at the Talitha Yacht, hidden behind the steep cliffs, off all major sailing routes.

The party was very exclusive indeed, organised for a world famous British actor that can’t be named for spying purposes, with a list of A-list celebrities heavy enough to sink the boat. Well, the boat did not sink, and the only thing that went down was champagne and cocktails. The Hot club rocked the boat, or rather swung it if you will, and had a chance to shine amongst the stars.

Surviving the mission, the musicians of the Hot Club were rewarded with having their life spared, a Vodka-Martini and a beautiful blonde spy each, but had to run off discretely with their loot and boarded the speed boat under the moonlight, again evading a deadly swarm of flying-fish.

The Musicians were finally able to relax on the terrace of their suite, enjoying the swimming pool under a starry night. But with no rest for the wicked, the night was short and the agents spent no time whisking us back to London for the band’s next show.

Back in the UK, the sky was overcast and the temperature dropped from 39 degrees to 19 – unfortunately the prized blonde spies took umbrage at this and disappeared rather swiftly.

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