Eat the right cake
Taki
IWashington DC have only one thing to add to the John Major-as-a-stud saga. He should be ashamed all right, but for his choice of woman, not for having screwed around. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They can have their cake, and eat it too, as long as they eat the right cake. This Edwina slag was hound to spill the beans. What was Major thinking? A self-publicist, a low life, and ugly as hell to boot, is a lethal cocktail made for the tabloids. They say that you can judge a man by the women he's had. If true, Major comes out even worse as a person than he was as a prime minister. I've done some pretty dumb things in my life — who hasn't? — hut no girl has gone to Murdoch's filthy tabloids with the Taki story because I don't screw, drink or dope with Edwina Currie-types. And this also applies to poor Jeffrey Archer. If he had not trusted a Judas, he'd be sitting pretty right now. Let's face it. Archer did nothing wrong. He stuffed a hooker — so what? And when the tabloids got hold of it. he said he hadn't. Again, so what? Why is it that journalists can lie and misrepresent themselves with impunity, but when somebody gets caught doing what they do regularly, they're sent down and the key thrown away.
Being sent to a tough prison and solitary for having 'broken' the rules in lunching with an old colleague? This is the stuff of stealing a piece of bread in Les Miserables. You English should be ashamed of your selves, hut your lives are so miserable you don't even know what shame is. There's so much hate, jealousy and envy in England. I'm very, very happy to be in the Bagel among some of the crudest people on earth. Not that journalists are much better over here. During a press conference held in the National Press Club here in the nation's capital, all that the Fourth Estate geniuses could come up with was what could Pat Buchanan, who believes in family values, and yours truly, who loves wine and women, possibly have in common. I am not a whinger by nature, but I thought it rather unfair. My coke bust of 18 years ago was mentioned in every article that appeared, and the New York Times, the Washington Post. the Washington Times. UPI and the rest had the story on the front pages of their style sections. In fact, they made me feel like Giovanni, in the old joke: Giovanni is sitting on a park bench looking extremely depressed. When asked why, he points at the library across the way and says. *You see that library? I paid for it. You see that hospital down the road'? I paid for it to be built. And that school next door? I had it built. But once, only once, I sucked a cock. So everyone calls me Giovanni the cocksuckerf
Robert Kennedy Jr — now a public figure — was caught redhanded when smacked out, got no time in jail, and ever since it's never mentioned. A guy called Eric Breindel was caught buying heroin, did no time and it became a non-story once he made it big with Murdoch. In fact he was given a state funeral by the Australian dirtmonger, with Rudi Giuliani and Governor Pataki attending. Bob Evans, the Hollywood hustler, was caught with close to three kilos of coke, never did a day in jail, and when I mentioned it once in this here column, it was as if I had betrayed my mother to the Gestapo. Alas, the poor little Greek boy does not enjoy this kind of impunity. Could it possibly have anything to do with inherited wealth and right-wing politics? A little bird whispers 'yes' in my ear.
And it gets worse. There I was, following a drunken dinner to celebrate the first issue of the American Conservative, on a leafy Georgetown street with a beautiful Southern belle. I was trying to kiss her and things looked hunky-dory for a while.
Then she gasped. 'Oh my God,' she said, looking over my shoulder, `that's my church.' She ran down the street. 'But Jesus loved young lovers,' I yelled after her, but it was too late. She had disappeared into the night. So I sat on a bench like Giovanni feeling awfully depressed, but not for long. A Hungarian countess came driving by and.
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