The Fag Hag ran into two old friends from her teenage years at the BAFTAs this week. Not your favourite kind, the ones who’ve put on 110 pounds, work for London Transport, wear toupees and can’t get a date on a Saturday night. Instead they were your basic nightmares: successful, rich, glamorous and way too thin.
One – let’s call him Mr. 40 Million – because, sickeningly, that’s what he just traded his film company for – was gorgeousness itself: charming, down-to-earth and proffering invitations for forthcoming premieres. The other – let’s call him Mr. Cunty, ’cause that’s what he is – now happens to be a hugely successful film director…
Mr. Cunty was a horror of Hammer proportions who spent our entire exchange looking over my shoulder for famouses. And then I suddenly remembered: Mr. Cunty had always been cunty even at 15 and Mr. 40 Million had always been charming at 15.
So, the Jerry Springer moral of this tale is: money doesn’t make you an asshole… Being an asshole does.