No use piling on where Prince Andrew is concerned. It’s a sorry business, and he’s not among the brightest either. Back in the summer of 2007, in St Tropez, I had a boatload of guests and we all went to a party given by the Rubin family in their villa. It was a very gay night, in the old-fashioned meaning of the word. We were joined by a comely seductress from the Far East and the prince with the highest IQ on the planet, Andrew. He was polite but distant, concentrating on his companion. That’s when I told my friend Debbie Bismarck that Andy had no chance. Just watch me, I said.
I inched my way up to the babe in question, signalled to her that I needed to tell her something, and when she had excused herself from Andy’s monologue I informed her that the Prince would neither marry nor keep her.
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