High life
Laughs and lovers
Taki
Casanova seduced Marina Morosini, a nun, by letter. He proposed to a Neapoli- tan beauty but backed off when he was informed she was his daughter. Ouch! He was loved by the women he conquered and not one among the 122 — an extremely low number, back then women did not give it away like a Frisbee — ever wrote or spoke badly of him. Now, that's what I call a romantic lover.
Again, a hell of a long way from the For- eign Secretary, a man who treated his wife terribly and wholly deserves the flak he's getting. What I find depressing is Robin Cook as a serial adulterer. Adulterers by definition — my definition — are supposed to be swashbuckling, handsome and exotic. Cook is, well, like a short-order cook, drab, cold and someone not even his mother could possibly call handsome. The newspa- pers describe him as very intelligent. I'll take the Don any day.
How sad it is to see a British Foreign Secretary looking like a short-order cook and being thought of as a bit farcical. Cook's ethical foreign policy must have some of our allies rolling in the aisles. It all has to do with arrogance and lousy looks. The uglier the man, the bigger the chip on his shoulder. Aly Khan and Porfirio Rubirosa, two legendary seducers whom I knew well as a young man, never were betrayed by those they seduced, even after their death. Not a single woman among the hundreds, if not thousands, who fell for the Aly and Rubi charm, ever sold or told an unflattering story about them. And not for lack of trying by the tabloids and gossip- mongers.
It all has to do with charm and gentle- ness. Cook was distant, cold and brusque with his wife. My dear father, a non-stop philanderer, as Greek gentlemen were sup- posed to be in their day, was anything but cold. He was kind and gentle with my mother, and nine years after his death she remains in deep seclusion, waiting for the day that she can be reunited with him. He once went along on a friend's honeymoon in Palm Beach and ended up seducing the bride. After they were found out, the cuck- old forgave him. My mother told the stray- ing bride that her adultery with the best man was an even bigger mortal sin.
My old friend Alan Clark is a perfect example of not doing a Cook. He met his mistress while on his honeymoon with Jane, yet the latter loves and adores him 30 years later. This is because Alan treats her gently and with respect. The mother of my children occasionally reminds me that she would never put up with what she does if I weren't nice and didn't make her laugh. I somehow cannot see Robin Cook making a woman laugh in the boudoir. Perhaps only when in the nude.
I am of the opinion that a man can get away with anything as long as he smiles and is nice. Women might be seduced by a tor- tured silent type, but it will only be a mat- ter of time before they cuckold him. In favour of somebody who makes them laugh. Laughter is the greatest aphrodisiac of all, where women are concerned. Make a lady laugh and you're half-way home. Keep them laughing and they'll love you forever. Happily, my teenage son JT has the knack. All he does is chase girls and make jokes.
Which brings me to another laughing matter, that of the 900 American poofters being forbidden to land on the Cayman Islands. The poof lobby has asked for a boycott of the Cayman Islands, as inconve- nient as that may turn out to be for those among the woofters who have off-shore accounts there. I have a better idea. One that will make everyone happy. Let the 900 queens sail to Mykonos instead, where their kind have not upheld standards of civilised behaviour for donkey's years. Mykonians are greedy and well-versed in homosexual shenanigans. The place is crawling with them all summer. Nine hun- dred more won't make a difference. Homos of the world unite and head for Mykonos. Personally, I'm off to the Cay- mans.
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