Low life
Trial and error
Jeffrey Bernard
It's been another rather silly week I'm afraid, and one punctuated with some very strange judgments. On one day, I forget which, a woman who inflicted 16 cigarette burns on the hand of her baby was sent to prison for six months. On the same day, a man who stole £25,000 from his firm was sent down for four years. And what is £25,000? Pitces of paper. Then there was the Miss World contest which I think may have been judged by blind eunuchs. Miss Trinidad and Tobago, the one with the Cleopatra-style hair, was head and shoulders above her rivals but came nowhere. But why stop at head and shoulders? And why the hell should the result irritate me so much? God knows, but I know how much the contest irritates some women. It shouldn't. If I had the chance of winning £10,000 by walking across a stage wearing swimming trunks I'd jump at it and I'd thank the men's liberation movement to mind their own business.
Another thing that's subsequently ir- ritated me about Miss World is that she's been boasting in the press that she's a virgin. She says she wants to keep herself pure for her marriage. Quite frankly, I do not wish to know such things of this particular nature. I tried to keep myself pure for my first marriage, too, but fell by the wayside when I met Miss Notting Hill Gate 1947. But that's beside the point and a story I'm saving for Spare Rib.
Yes, the judges of the Miss World contest say that 'personality' counts for a hell of a lot. By personality they mean saying preferably with a Venezualan accent — that you like water skiing, want to start a family, be a model and open your own hairdressing shop. Faced with the same interview, covered in goose-pimples and standing in my swimming trunks on the stage of the Albert Hall, I can see that I'd lose valuable points for saying that I'd like to stop a family and open a beach bar in Barbados with an intact and pure Miss Trinidad and Tobago.
The other judgment which I found odd was the one made against me in court. I've fallen behind with some monthly payments and when I explained to the beak that the reason for this is because I've been a trifle skint, he upped the instalments. I can't see the logic of it. The man could get a job with the Arts Council, whose judges always give The Spectator 27 November I9': the money to those who've got erl°1111d already. Incidentally, and I'm sure I've sa:it it before, have you noticed how trinc," if helps nowadays to be a little bit black you're after a grant or a world beauty titre Personally, I don't much mind he111:1 discriminated against but what I do ohi ,g to is the ridiculous business of not be It allowed to make jokes about black PeOP't or Jews. Sorry, Jewish people. WhoYni0 should be immune and the Irish and they to, Idoonh'tavke ufnosw.feIresd ouhoeuhldhgah ll have thore over years. Anyway, another crazy thing this :iced:: was the invitation that came throng" d post inviting me to a press conference and buffet lunch given by the BritishD'abken'ld Association. God knows how they got II a of my name since I'm not a member, hurse diabetic buffet lunch? I ask you. Of c°,,Ijaf I didn't go. My idea of the loch "-of (hour?) does not encompass a Plate re bran washed down with whatever we allowed to drink, and I don't even klit what we are allowed to drink. And, that from Jews and blacks, did you knowges it's considered bad taste to make J'',01. about diabetics? There's too much sclue" ishness in the world. Which reminds me, I couldn't help cod blit laugh when I read about the PO ;db. who'd had a heart transplant and who ivied snuffed it this week. His widow comPlakhe that immediately after the oPerati°Iniever became a raving sex maniac. I've, "hull heard of such post-operative spin- se of have experienced that same sort of sensi,ve urgency in the middle of the night wheri., of heard my heart beating. A shortag'_45( breath confirms the diagnosis and I "".nd now rush out to contact some Srnirnoff 41.'00 late. Trinidad and Tobago before it's
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