We’re putting the new Spectator to press this morning, and we have an interesting reader’s letter from Charles Saatchi. It’s addressed to Taki, as opposed to the editor, and takes issue with his disobliging references last week. He has this to say:
‘Dear Ms Taki [sic],
Although the Spectator is a lovely read, I always skip your column, I’m afraid.
I am simply not interested in your social life. I know that you delight in telling readers that your friends of Prussian nobility find you hilariously entertaining company at their swanky Europoncy parties.
But it was very hapless of you to spring to Nigella’s defence last week, as she always found you toe-curlingly vile, and would have been aghast at having you as her valiant supporter.
People tell me that in your unreadable column you also like to brag that you are a Black Belt at karate. Well, me too, old boy. But apparently your ‘fights’ are genteel affairs, against other soppy geriatrics rolling around the floor in crisp white outfits, in some bit of judokai nonsense.
Mine take place in cages, 20 feet square, unofficial little events with no gloves, no rules, and the loser being carried out, usually battered to bits. You will understand why I laughed out loud at your schoolyard boast that I should try throttling a real hard case like you.
Taki has replied in his column this week, saying:
‘I am 77 years old, 5ft 9in and weigh 185lbs. I am willing to face him any time under cage-fighting non-rules, which will be a first for me. I need three days’ notice.’
By coincidence, the film Grudge Match — about two men coaxed out of retirement to fight 30 years after they hung up their gloves — is on general release in Britain this week. We have adapted its poster, above.
If Taki and Charles are serious, we’d be happy to stage the contest in the garden of The Spectator, with proceeds from the ticket sales going to The Boxing Academy in East London. We’ll keep you posted.