High life
The bounder
Taki
As everyone who has ever heard of the Pampas knows, Louis Basualdo is the Argentinian polo professional who eloped with Lord Cowdray's teenage daughter back in the early Seventies, thus estab- lishing himself as the undisputed numero uno of bounders among the practitioners of a sport known to contain more cads than Jeffrey Bernard has had hangovers, and then some. Needless to say, as soon as his infant bride became pregnant all was for- given, and Basualdo became as much of a fixture around Cowdray Park as, say, Lord Cowdray's helicopter. Basualdo did not let his new-found wealth go to his head. One of his first acts was to recruit the Prince of Wales as back in his team the Golden Eagles. His recruitment of the prince was a fruitful one, and it is known even among those who have never heard of the game, that Basualdo's inside pockets are lined with pictures of himself and the heir to the throne. Later on, Basualdo publicly pre- sented the Prince with a gift pony flown in especially for the occasion by the bounder from the Pampas, a pony that Basualdo's Boswell, Nigel Dempster, later claimed to have been an Argentinian donkey in dis- guise, but that is a different matter altogether.
Those halcyon days did not last long, however. After about five years of mar- riage, Lucy Basualdo had had enough, She sued for divorce, the grounds being cruel- ty, flagrant debauchery, and not a small amount of adultery. Basualdo resisted, but just before the juiciest of divorce cases was to be heard, Lord Cowdray offered, and Basualdo reluctantly accepted, £200,000.
I had known Basualdo before his mar- riage — when he was after Christina Onassis, which proved to me he was a brave man — but after his divorce from Lucy I befriended him. The English contin- gent had dropped him like the proverbial hot potato, so I figured it was time to be seen with him in public. Which I did for a long time. I enjoyed his company and still do, although his constant meddling in other people's business has caused me not a small number of problems.
Others, however, found his gossiping to be too vicious, and impossible to accept. When he rented a cottage and moved to Beaufort Hunt country, his presence was met with alarm. When he bought two hunters, and appeared in top hat and immaculate hunting pink with his factotum Ludovico in attendance, people broke and ran. One of our most distinguished histo- rians, Princess Michael of Kurtz, was among the first to complain of his pre- sence. Finally the Duke of Beaufort had to give in to popular demand and refuse him the blue and buff. Basualdo hit back by spreading more rumours than Princess Michael has lifted passages. What followed was inevitable.
Sometime after lunch two weeks ago, Major Ronald Ferguson received a call from a man he hadn't heard from in years. 'Hi, Ron, this is Louis Basualdo,' said the voice. Ferguson immediately went on guard. 'What do you want?' asked the good major. 'I was thinking about playing at Windsor next year,' answered-the voice, to which Ferguson immediately said, `Absolutely not, we don't need your kind here,' and was about to hang up when the voice said, 'Too bad, Ronny, because I have certain pictures of Fergie which the press might be very interested in.'
To Major Ferguson's eternal credit, he slammed the telephone down and that is where the matter ended, as far as he's concerned. But word got out that the Bounder had tried to pull a number on the father of the Duchess of York, and all hell broke loose. Fergie herself is said to be furious, and demanding the Bounder's head. I don't know what the major's plans are, as I don't even know for certain that the call ever took place. But if it did, I know that Basualdo's was not the voice on the telephone. For once he is innocent of all charges.
But at Sir Gordon White's dinner dance for 500 of his closest friends last Saturday, the Bounder looked pale, without his usual man-tan makeup, and his behaviour was one of a broken man. Nothing like a practical joke at one's expense to turn even an irrepressible character like the Bounder into a social lamb. I now predict the Bounder will leave these islands are ever, and I for one will miss him.
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