At a chic dinner party last week, a friendly chow as big and black as a dog can be without being a bear sniffed a lady’s bum during pre-dinner drinks. I happened to be standing behind the lady and she raised her hand in anger. ‘It was Bessie the dog,’ I stammered. ‘What is wrong with you? I don’t do this no more.’ The lady in question is of a certain age, and the last one at the party I’d have goosed, but such are the joys of a bad reputation.
Oh yes, before I forget, Marina, Princess of Savoy, who one month ago accused me of having locked her up for two days on board my boat, has now recanted, and admits that it was another awful Greek ship owner who did the dastardly deed. She also admitted that had it been me — this happened 50 years ago — she would gladly have been locked up.
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