Joan Collins On Being Raped By Her Future Husband And Fat Titless Chinamen In Shift Dresses
JOAN Collins has written a book: The World According To Joan. It’s being serialised in the Mail. Joan and the Mail are natural bedfellows:
“All women look awful in shift dresses, even Nicole Kidman. You’ve gotta be totally titless for them to work.”
On Maxwell Reed:
“I only married him because I was so embarrassed that he had taken my virginity… I was 18 going on 13, that is how young people were in the Fiftiess… Maxwell picked me up at Hyde Park Corner Tube station in a powder-blue Buick. It was amazing for me. He was my favourite movie-star. I remember I was wearing a black skirt and a polo neck, with a yellow jacket. He took me to a place called the Country Club in Hanover Square. We walked up lots of stairs to a small, candle-lit apartment where he asked me what I wanted to drink and gave me a rum and Coke. It was a Mickey Finn. I was drugged. You must think I am a moron. Oh, this is such a horrible story. He said: ‘I am going to have a bath,’ which I thought was very strange. He then said: ‘Take a look at this book, I think you will find it interesting. Of course, it was full of disgusting, pornographic photographs. Now, any smart girl today would have got out of there and run down those stairs faster than a speeding bullet, but not little innocent, stupid Joan Collins, who stayed there and looked at the book. The next thing I knew, I was on the sofa and that was it. Then I was throwing up into a bucket.”
On The Chinese:
Yesterday, for example, she was castigated by her children for calling someone a Chinaman.
“Apparently that is rude and I am supposed to say Asian. Gah. Since when?” she asks. “Look. I know that people will blame me for pontificating about things that an actress shouldn’t, but I have something to say, something that I think a lot of people will agree with. Things that they might be frightened to say because it is politically incorrect to do so.”
Ah, political correctness going mad – it’s the mantra of the Mail. Anorak is more in favour of political correctness than Joan, given that it prevents people calling a black man a jungle bunny and finding that using words like Paki, wog, coons, kyke, slag and Paddy meet with disapproving glances by the “mad” who think that respecting the individual regardless of colours, creed or sex is a good thing.
On The Big Boned:
“The Orca-sized oafs from Planet Girth.”
In fact, overweight is one of her betes noires in the book. ‘Loathe fat people? Did that come across?’ she asks. ‘I certainly don’t admire them.
They are digging their graves with their own teeth. I think to be terribly overweight is incredibly unhealthy. And how do they get into a tiny lavatory on a plane? I feel sorry for them, I do.’
“Don’t give them a slice of the cake before teatime, if you know what I mean.”
Or they’ll get fat.
Someone once asked of her infamous 18-month fling with Warren Beatty in the 1960s if it was true they had sex seven times a day.
She replied: “Maybe he did, but I just lay there.”
Joan Collins – don’t you know who she was?