Gstaad
This is the worst news I’ve had since the surrender at Stalingrad. The Spectator’s deputy editor has become engaged to a former adviser to my favourite minister, Iain Duncan Smith. But how can this be when the deputy editor is already engaged to me? If true, what does it make her — words fail me — a bigatrothed? All I know is that I’m flying to London in order to investigate. If the worst comes to the worst I am going to hit my rival so hard he’s going to have to look up to tie his shoelaces. Enough said.
I could also sue, but it ain’t my style. Although I’ve heard rumours that my rival is a habitual user of body wax, I will not get personal. The deputy editor’s actions probably have much to do with my ageing looks, something that I cannot help or do anything about unless I go under the knife, or use Botox, but I’d rather be a cuckold than look like Lily Safra. They say that being good-looking is useful in so many ways, such as not losing one’s fiancée to a younger man, but life is, after all, unfair.
In fact, one Daniel Hamermesh, an American professor, has written a long and boring article in the International Herald Tribune about ugliness. He says it’s unfair. That’s quite a discovery, even for a professor. Hamermesh claims that workers who are among the bottom one seventh in looks earned 10 to 15 per cent less per year than those assessed to be in the top third where looks are concerned. Which in a lifetime translates to as much as $230,000. Gee, that’s a lot of moolah to lose for being ugly.
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