VENICE, Italy -- Wearing expensive shades and dragging half a dozen barely toilet trained baby-specimens from the most unpleasant corners of the world (Ms. Jolie hopes to adopt an underpriviledged Antarctic baby penguin to round out her global petting zoo), the spectacle dubbed Brangelina by the tabs set its collective foot on the sinking city of Venice this weekend. And as you might have guessed, our ruthless and ethically suspect spies were able to record their conversation:
SHILOH: Mommy, lookie! Paps!
ANGELINA: Shush, dear. They're here for your Mommy, not for you.
BRAD: And for your Daddy.
A: Yeah. As if.
B: Babe, do you have the Chinese one?
A: He's from Vietnam and his name is Pax. No I don't have him. Brad, if you've lost another...
B: There he is, he's gnawing on that angry woman's schnauzer.
A: Pax! That's a bad baby! Remember our talk about how dogs aren't food at our house?
PAX: Yummy-yummy, woof-woof!
B: Paas, dude. That's totally uncool.
A: Paas makes Easter egg dye. It's Pax, you moron. Now take that schnauzer ear out of his mouth and tell guard to hand it back to the screaming lady.
S: Shiloh make a poo-poo!
B: Dude, that's wicked-gross.
A: Don't hand me the white one, I'm carrying the negro. She matches my Valentino jumpsuit. Where's the Cambodian?
B: Baby these pants are Dolce & Gabbana. I can't go to my premier wearing poo-stained D&Gs.
A: You and your faggy cowboy movie. I need you to focus. Where's the Cambodian?
B: We have a Cambodian?
A: He's the tall one who looks a little Chinese-y.
B: Mannix? He's taking a leak in that canal over there.
A: Maddox, no! Baby, take the negro, I'll get the Cambodian. Pax, stay away from that pug!
P: Yum-yum arf!
A: Maddox, we don't show our shame hose in public! This is the Venice Film Festival, not Malarialand, or whatever smelly Cambodian hell-hole you come from, you left-over lump of tiger lunch!
A: Oh, God.
B: Baby, the negro one is acting all crybaby-ish.
A: Give her a smack, do I have to do everything?
B: I'm pretty sure my publicist doesn't want me smacking a negro baby in front of the paps.
A: Just be subtle about it! Like when I finger-popped you at the Golden Globes.
B: I'll try.
B: Yo, Sahara...
A: It's Zahara, with a "z."
B: Zahara, if you don't put a cork in the crybaby crap I'll have to pop you one, cool?
A: Shilo, do I have to make you wear the "baby poopy pants" bucket on your head again?
B: Baby, there's a urine-soaked gondolier in the canal and he's acting all yelly. He talks in like Japanese or something.
A: Could it be Italian, you bonehead?
B: Maybe, but he has squinty eyes which seemed Japanesey to me.
B: Dude, spit out that shih tzu paw. I'll give you a slim jim or something.
A: Where the hell is our limo? Guard!