Magazine article The Spectator

Engaging Events

Magazine article The Spectator

Engaging Events

Article excerpt

A hell of a week, starting with the bash at Conrad and Barbara Black's summer party for gentlemen hacks, writers, royals, politicians and domestic and overseas jetsetters. Then Royal Ascot, where Robert Sangster on Tuesday and Wafic and Rosemary Said on Wednesday provide nosh for the posh as well as for the poor little (and very thirsty) Greek boy. Robert Hanson does the honours on Tuesday evening at home, home being packed with young and beautiful girls to the delight of the aging (but still terribly randy) poor little you know who. And speaking of beautiful young girls, I became engaged chez les Blacks to Alannah Weston, daughter of Galen and Hilary, he a multi-billionaire polo player, she the Lieutenant-governor of Ontario. The good news is I'm a very lucky Greek (my fiancee has beauty, youth, brains and $100 million dowry), the bad being it's all in my imagination.

Oh well, there are two beautiful American girls in town, both possible future Mrs Takis, but I cannot reveal their full names (Serena and Kadee) because my real pride and joy, my daughter Lolly, is in London working at the National Theatre and she might get distracted if she reads that her father is about to be married. Blondes, parties and marriage aside, our benevolent proprietor recently took me to task over what he called `your egregious overestimation of the Wehrmacht's generals'. Conrad thinks that MacArthur was the finest overall commander, and I happen to agree. Where we disagree is on Eisenhower and, of course, on British commanders. He thinks Guderian took too many chances; I say the dazzling victories of 1939-41 were because people like von Manstein, Guderian and von Manteuffel did exactly that. Ditto Rommel.

Needless to say, we now wage war over football, with the English slobs and yobs being the bad guys. Incidentally, the German team beaten by the English last week was as bad a side as I've seen representing the Fatherland. In fact, if in the closing days of Stalingrad von Paulus's 6th Army could field 11 men without serious frostbite or missing limbs, I'm sure they would have beaten this sorry lot. If this was a glorious victory for England after 34 years, Robin Cook is a sex symbol. Mind you, when I see the misshapen, grotesque subhumans that are England's fans abroad, Cookie does begin to resemble a sex symbol. …

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