High life
Strangle hold
Taki
Ihadn't realised what a great sense of humour the Duke of Westminster and Lord Cadogan have. Both men are said to be angry at the communist Government of John Major over the Bill that will allow some leaseholders to buy what they already own (or have paid for, rather), namely the roof over their head. In fact, in last week's Spectator, one John Martin Robinson Cru- soe — a man I don't know — took my name in vain, saying that the only ones who will benefit from such a Bill becoming law are Tory MPs, Arab princelings and Taki.
Now I'm not sure which pressure group Mr Robinson Crusoe works for, but I've got news for him if it's the Cadogan or Grosvenor estates. I have 'owned' houses under both and believe me, the people who run them have the stature of George Car- man and the compassion of Adolf Eich- mann.
In his article Mr Robinson states it 'will be the termination of the admirable profes- sional management policies implemented at their own expense by the historic ground landlords'. It is not clear to me what expense he means. No sooner had I moved in to my present address in Cadoganland than a bill of £14,000 arrived for cleaning the building. It was the third time that I had got a bill as soon as I moved in to a flat. The only time I didn't was when I bought a freehold in the Boltons (which haven't exactly turned into 'one-storeyed cheap shops' because of lack of direction 'OK. Try a U-turn without losing face...' by some brain-dead duke). Furthermore, the Arabs are not coming, they're here. The English families — the old ladies on pensions, etc. — have lost their protection through inflation, thus the rates have driven them out already. In Eaton Square nannies take the babies out for air in tanker-shaped prams, and in Cadogan Square Americans make fun of people who say lift rather than elevator. If Major is still around to ram through this Bill, I for one will cheer, and to hell with the Cadogans.
It all makes me regret having paid my rates — almost as much as I regret know- ing Neil Mackwood, who writes a column called 'Grub Street' in the Sunday Times. He claims I was about to throw an 18th- century glass into the Adam fireplace of Syon House when the Duke of Northum- berland warned me not to on pain of hav- ing to leave. Well, I don't throw glasses even in the Olive Republic, where the nou- veaux riches have made it a sort of custom. I never have and no one can claim they've seen me do it (only once, in 1956). And I don't know Harry Northumberland well enough to go around wrecking his house. Yet another example of poor little rich boys like me being libelled. And speaking of the poor, Charles Ben- son, my old fag at Eton, gave a dinner for 32 at the Mirabelle, now under new man- agement — a Japanese Mr Ishi, I believe. As soon as I saw the guest list I realised what we all had in common: Benson owed money to all of us, except for Nigel Demp- ster (who owes Benson a tip or two). There were stars like Albert Finney — who gave a gracious speech about debt and Benson — Mark Birley, The Spectator's own AIgY Cluff, Robert Sangster, Jocelyn Stevens (who said Benson is not part of English Heritage) and Edward St George, an old benefactor of Benson's. The night contin- ued at Aspinall's and Annabel's, but the next day I had Ishi-san to thank for one of the worst hangovers yet.
IMO
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