He’s not a thug, he doesn’t trust his celebrity friends, and he’s definitely not a pornographer. Over a cigar delivered on a silver platter, the self-appointed king of Express Newspapers lays into scruffy booksellers and sets the record straightRichard Desmond held a party at Claridge’s in Mayfair this week to launch his autobiography. “Everybody” was there – “Jacob Rothschild came, Katie Price came, Barbara Windsor came. It was a whole cross-section of everybody. Lovely.” One person who was not there for long, though, was the man from Waterstones staffing the book stand.“I walk in, and I see this bloke, this scruffy bloke. He’s in like a real old sweater with holes in it, jeans with holes in.” Desmond’s nose wrinkles. “I said to him, ‘Look, mate, you’ve got lords and ladies coming here, and international celebrities, and my friends and family. I don’t really want to see you look like that. Have you got a suit?’ ‘No.’ ‘Would you go out and get a suit?’ ‘No.’ I said, ‘Well then, mate, fuck off.’ I got one of my advertising girls to sell the books instead.” He turns to his PR. “Was I harsh?” The PR demurs respectfully. “Oh no, it was about principle.” It all worked out for the best, Desmond agrees happily, because the man “learned a lesson”, will tell everyone, “Oh, this guy was so aggressive to me, he threatened to kill me,” and thus “another myth” about the media tycoon’s violent temper will be born. “Well, that’s the point.” Related: A reading from the Book of Desmond:... Continue reading at 'The Guardian'
[ The Guardian | 2015-06-19 00:00:00 UTC ]