Introduction

Rather than the traditional form of the blog, which resembles an open-ended diary, I have decided, anonymously, to vent my spleen with some unstructured thoughts, anecdotes, stories, fury, venom, vitriol and countless other prejudices that have been storing up for a couple of decades. This exercise is finite.

In no particular order, I shall rant and rave about:

Sloanes, snobs, aristocrats (Scottish, English and other), trustafarians, layabouts, drug addicts, night clubs for the achingly cool, posh totty, rich bitches, divorcees, glamour-pusses, tarts, slappers, slags, sultry beauties, expensive lingerie, sex, beds, bondage, leather, fetish, rubber, glamour, luxury, largesse, grandiosity, depravity, glamour, English schooling, class, London property prices, second homes, pubs, bars, high-class hookers, whores, kept women, the idle rich, "Johnny Foreigner", Sloane Street, South Kensington, Salons, Soho, brothels, escort agencies, Chanel, Routemaster buses, black cabs, blacks, bisexuals, gentlemen's clubs, Tories, yesteryear, treatment centres, Eurotrash, Harvey Nichol's, the Grosvenor Estate, Tatler, Motcomb Street, Belgravia, the demise of Kensington High Street, punk, rock and the King's Road.

I have absolutely no idea where these ramblings will lead but if I can make a stack a cash of it, so much the better.

Along the way, dear reader, have a think, who am I? A hint: I am not well.