New York
The funny thing about Sarkozy being president of France is not his size, but his family. His father, Pal Sarkozy, used to frequent the same nightclubs as I did back in the early Sixties. Of the ‘beau monde’ he was not. Pal was sort of sleazy, and sort of a conman, and sort of a playboy. None of us knew what he did, and by that I don’t mean to suggest he was dishonest, but there were always rumours about him. An inveterate womaniser, a good thing for a father of a French president to be, his women, alas, were a pretty lousy bunch. Except for one of them, Beatrice de M, a close friend of mine whom he promised a trip to the altar but then dropped, most of his ladies were not ladies.
His third wife was the sister of a very old buddy of mine, Bernard de Ganay, and she was the worst of a bad lot.
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