It's Christmas party season and, luckily, the Coopster is at the very top of most thinking hostesses' guest lists. This week alone I have 19 different events to attend and it very much depends on the party as to whom I go with. For the big Preppie marquee events then, Victoria is the perfect companion. That girl can talk for England and seems to have been to school with absolutely anyone who's anyone in the country. By "school" I have learned that you guys mean high school, as opposed to university, which is what we talk of as "school." It's weird because I don't know anyone from my high school. Granted, they were mostly North Californian hippy stoners, but in the States you just don't hang out with high-school friends. Most of your normal buddies come from university and work. Over here it seems to be completely different.
First, the posher you are, then the less likelihood that you've even bothered with university. Why waste three years of your life studying when you own Yorkshire? Secondly, unlike the States, most of you go to boarding school and so you not only actually live with each other for five/10 years but most of you seem to have slept with each other as well. This clearly makes for strong bonds that are difficult to break into. That's why Victoria is such a social asset to me. Despite having slept with zero men and not attended any boarding school in which the opportunity would have been offered to me, I am accepted because of my link with Victoria. She is my formal introduction to polite UK society. If it wasn't for her, I'd be hanging out in a market town at midnight, getting my head kicked off by youths in Burberry. As it is, I'm currently a "hot ticket" and very much enjoying myself.
Obviously, sometimes the event needs more of a male companion and that's when Ben comes into play. Ben comes from the exact background that I've just described but he's somehow managed to avoid a lot of the pitfalls. He left Eton at 15. He says that he just lost interest in education, as he knew that he'd have more money than he needed in his life and he wanted to get on with spending some of it. That's Ben down to a T. He's a doer and doesn't follow the crowd. When his friends left school, he joined Oxford and spent three years there hanging out and partying with absolutely no interest in a degree. I think that he got one in the end, but it was of no real consequence as he joined the family firm in the City. There's no real right or wrong in all of this. It's just "different horses for different tracks", as Victoria's sister says.
Ben just gave a whopping sum to David Cameron' s election basket so it shouldn't be too long before I'm having to salute him and call him "Your Highness." As a party companion there is none finer than Ben. He attracts women like a magnet and I'm happy to wallow in his wake. I normally cede to no man in this department but, I have to admit, that he has no equal.
He and I went to a big Tory "do" last week. It was crammed with the great, the good and the sexy. A sure sign, as Ben said, that they're on their way back. Ten years ago, he said, no one of any credence would be seen dead in public at any Tory event. Now, DC is sexy and the glitterati can't get enough of him. I think a lot of this is just due to the fact that he's relatively normal and likeable, unlike the Frankensteins they had leading them beforehand.
Ben and I ended up flirting with Mrs C. She is a serious babe and remembered me straight away from the dinner party at her place. She gave me a wink and asked me whether I'd knocked any more Tory peers unconscious? I told her that I'd been trying to keep myself under control but that David Mellor had been in my cross hairs after pushing past me at the champagne bar. She made a weird face and I nearly fell in love with her. There's something wild about her that I can't pin down but it drives me crazy. I lied and told her that I'd bought Victoria one of the new Leighton crocodile handbags for Christmas. She runs Smythsons, a very posh leather shop, and this new bag is flying out of the door. She told me that Liz Hurley was cradling one and I realised that I'd now actually have to purchase said bag. It's not cheap, this networking.
DC sidled up to us and gave Sam a pinch on the ass. He's like that, very tactile. I shook his hand and we chatted for five minutes or so about the Quattroporte. DC loves the thing but can't be seen to have one as it's too conspicuous, too Eton. I told him that this was exactly why people loved him and that they'd expect him to have a great car but he just shrugged. Poor guy, he's a real petrol-head stuck on a green's body. DC and Ben go way back. I think that they hung out in some weird club at Oxford that drank in caves and got totally outrageous. They gave each other a series of very complicated handshakes that would make a Crip in South Central jealous. I frickin' love this country. You could spend a lifetime learning the codes and signals that allow you to run the place. I ended up back at some house in Notting Hill Gate with a couple of special advisers and two new MPs. They might be Conservative but they're not when the little c is applied. Ben ended up standing on a black cab stark naked. Good times. Cooper out.Reuse content