A rare British species, a womanising ex-foreign secretary, kissed and told about his brief affair with a yellow-eyed temptress last week, and it brought back memories of a similar tryst on the part of yours truly. Boris Johnson reclined on a bed of straw with a purring cheetah and lived to write about it, although I am certain there were plenty of Brussels sprouts hoping for a different ending to the affair. Never mind. Boris and the cheetah met at Howletts, the John Aspinall Foundation-owned wild animal park in Kent, a place I used to know well.
A bit of antebellum lore: if your name is carved on a commemorative column, enjoy it. I am told that mine is on one at Howletts, but perhaps that is hearsay, as I have not been there since the founder’s death back in the year 2000. Aspers was a close friend and over the years I contributed greatly to animal welfare via his various casinos.
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