Dom is going to plead ‘not guilty’, on Monday. I mean Dominique Strauss-Kahn, of course. You know I’d never expected this of him? I knew him during my brief Parisian stint. He was quite fun to be with. I remember once at a social do he suggested we go into the Salle Henri Désiré Landru, adjoining the reception area, because of the marvellous paintings there.
Whenever a man has asked me to go into any room with him, it always ended in steamy groping, that goes with the territory. But this kerfuffle was too much even for my tastes. I slapped his face hard. If you think that stopped him, you don’t know French men. When those clammy socialist fingers went for my décolleté, I took off my high heel and rammed it you-know-where.
That was the end of the matter, there and then. A few minutes later we were conversing animatedly again in the Salle Philippine de Rothschild. And not half an hour later, another important politician asked me to come look at the paintings in the Salle Landru with him. That’s how it goes, in France! I said yes, by the way.