Low life
Carpet bag
Jeffrey Bernard
Ihave received several letters recently, two even from as far afield as Australia, from incredulous readers who doubt the veracity of my stories about the woman peeing on runaway skis down a slope in the Alps and the man who threw his under- pants out of the train window. And yet such readers probably believe in such guff as Adam and Eve, Noah's ark and Jonah and the whale, to say nothing of 'the cheque's in the post'. Or am I, as most con- men eventually do, believing my own lies? Anyway, my niece, Katie, told me anoth- er strange story the other day which she swears by all that is sacred is the absolute truth. A woman inherited a carpet shop and all its stock. Not being interested in running a business she decided to sell up and called in an expert to evaluate the stock. When he arrived on her premises she was amazed to discover that he was blind. In spite of that she allowed him to fumble about in her shop of treasures. He felt one carpet and said, 'Woven in Shiraz, probably in about 1820, and worth about £3,000.' She presented him with another carpet which he ran his hands over and he said, 'Tehran, made more recently, maybe the turn of the century, and worth about f1,700.' Fascinated by the man's skill she removed her knickers, guided his hand to her pubic hair and he said, 'Coconut mat- ting, John Lewis, £5.70 per square yard.'
Now, as it happens, I can believe the woman having done that but I have doubts about any grown man being on such unfa- miliar ground. Had he had an affair with a doormat? We may never know, but I am reluctant to think that my niece tells fibs. I am inclined to believe nearly everything except for racing tips and what comes through the post from H.M. Customs and Excise.
I even believe Patsy, who wrote to me again from what he calls Ford Country Club which is, in fact, as you know, Ford Open Prison, Arundel, Sussex. He begins his letter, 'I think it was Nancy Mitford who once said "when the loo paper gets thicker and the writing paper thinner it's always a bad sign at home".' How very true. He went on to say that last week he invited nvited to an excellent lunch at Ambur- ley Castle. He probably went there after a round of golf. When I remarked to my bookmaker friend Alfie Edwards in the Bar Italia that Ford sounded a remarkable
prison and not really punitive he said, 'The trouble is that you can't get in there. There's a waiting list until next summer.' What strange times we live in when the nick can be preferable to being homeless and I am sure that the VAT people could arrange for a holiday in Patsy's Country Club. I was also touched to hear that our editor, Dominic Lawson, replied to a letter from Patsy. I was not at all surprised that Bridget Rowe of the Sunday Mirror did not grant him the courtesy of a reply. She must have felt even more pleased with herself for sacking me in April when a letter from the nick landed on her desk. If only fea- tures editors were like Patsy it wouldn't be so cold out here.
And now Keith has just told me that Jef- frey Bernard is Unwell will have a short tour in Italy, to Rome, Genoa and Milan. I won- der what on earth they will make of it. And it is also going to be put on in Copenhagen. I won't be able to resist a few days in Italy but Copenhagen you can keep. I once spent an hour chatting up and buying drinks for a very attractive woman who I suddenly noticed had rather large teeth. The penny dropped. It was a man.
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