High life
Missing link
Taki
Athens B ack in the good old days, when ex-King Constantine was the heir to the Hellenic throne and Melina Mercouri did not con- cern herself with Elgin's marbles but played the happy hooker in films, Constantine's sexual pursuits were known only by a few of his immediate circle. The Greek press, following the time-honoured tradition of the British one where Edward VIII was con- ,c,erned, never once published an item about extraordinary randiness of my future king. Although I was never enough of a toady to be part of Constantine's retinue, I knew all about his obsession with the op- posite sex because I found myself getting the short end of the stick: I'd waste a lot of time Pursuing some sweet young thing only to see her disappear for days and return starry-eyed and acting like Sabrina Guin- ness does when she sees a rock star. As a young man during the early Sixties, Constantine was very good looking, already a gold.-Medal winner in the Rome Olympics, and randier than even you-know-Koo. He was also a terrible nuisance. No one was safe. As soon as he arrived at a party all the ill, ales would be dropped while the fickle females waited for him to ask them to dance. I remember once having just about convinced a young lady that the Acropolis by moonlight (in those pre-pollution nights one could actually see the damn thing) with talc' could be the start of something big, when the pest winked at her. She imme-
diately began to tremble and flew to him for a quick rumba. Afterwards, when she came back, I made the mistake of remonstrating with her in front of some other young peo- ple. 'You could walk instead of making like Jesse Owens, and try to control your breathing a bit,' is all I said to her, if I remember correctly. That is when everyone, including the hostess, turned on me. 'You're just jealous,' they all hissed in unison. And it was probably the first — and last — time more than five Greeks agreed about anything. I was very jealous.
When Constantine married the beautiful Anna Maria I heaved a sigh of relief. A premature one, as it turned out. Years later I saw him skiing with the mother of my children and they were holding hands. 'We're just trying to see whose skis glide faster,' was his excuse. Mine was why I didn't marry her for another four years.
Constantine's sisters were like Penelope where sex was concerned; or, rather, like Sister Teresa. No member of Greek society, no matter how great a social climber he was, dared make a pass at them. They would dance with their escorts as if the un- fortunates were afflicted with severe body odour, and nothing faster than a slow fox- trot would do. I suppose it has to be that way with most female royals. Sophia's hus- band, King Juan Carlos, is like his brother- in-law in many ways, but unlike him he is very discreet. In a place like Spain, where sexual conquests count, I don't know if that is necessarily a good thing. Perhaps if his sexual exploits were revealed the Colonels wouldn't keep trying to overthrow him.
England, of course, is different. Ran- diness a la Lord Lambton is looked down upon while the interminably obnoxious but celibate Princess Anne is tolerated. Although I have been trying to find a link between randiness and greatness, I am impossible: one doesn't preclude the other, nor are they mutually afraid it has proved dependent. Take, for example, Napoleon. He used women as a means of physical release, the way one must. His one great love, Maria Walevska, he betrayed as far as Polish independence was concerned• yet he couldn't keep himself away from her. Napoleon was known for his speedy love- making. J. F. Kennedy was the same: quick and a user of women. Napoleon was great while Kennedy was not. Louis XIV and Louis XV were both very randy; and both great kings. Louis XVI, as everyone knows, could hardly get it together and never fool- ed around when he did manage to; and look how he ended up. Talleyrand, on the other hand, was the greatest statesman and the greatest lover France has ever produced. The Bishop of Autan managed to seduce three generations of the Dino family. Franklin Roosevelt gave half the world to slavery in Yalta, yet he was quite a lover. So was Stalin. Churchill, however, who was a better man than both, was not. I guess he was too English.
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