Checking The Mail: Jan Moir’s Dating Advice
Checking The Mail: Jan Moir’s dating advice
I’D take dating advice from the reanimated corpse of Lucretia Borgia before I turned to Jan Moir for lessons in love. Still, it doesn’t stop Dacre’s most delightful attack dog from offering unwanted advice to the great and not-so-good. This week’s instalment is Ms Moir pontificating about the alleged peccadilloes of Wendi Deng who apparently went ding dong for Tony Blair’s…legs.
What Moir can’t get her head around is why women would ever be attracted to Tony Blair or Bill Clinton. Fairs fair she does also mention Francois Hollande and Silvio Belusconi who look like muppets made out of old leather offcuts from a furniture warehouse. However, is it really so surprising that women go for Blair and Bill? Both men are charming, powerful and uber-rich, hardly a combination that has proved unpopular.
But even weirder than Moir’s denial that charm and a big chequebook can work wonders for a man or woman’s love life, is her addiction to the Daily Mail’s style of bizarre prudishness. Remember this is a paper that obsesses over women’s bodies with the attentiveness of a sex murderer. Witness Moir’s pearl clutching about a note Deng apparently wrote about that hot Blair bod:
“…this week, breathless love notes surfaced in which Deng raved about Tony’s great beauty and irresistible charms; attractions hitherto unnoticed by the entire rest of the world. Wendi foamed on about his ‘good body’, his ‘really, really good legs’, his ‘piece blue eyes’ and – will the sensitive please look away now – his ‘butt’.”
After getting red-faced over that rudest of rude words – “butt” – Moir refocuses on rubbing her hands together with glee at the thought of Tony Blair splitting from his wife Cherie. She’s also just plain weird, commenting that Liz Hurley is “like Monica Lewinsky…a champion thong-thwacker…” I have no idea what a thong-thwacker is but I’d rather not attend any of the parties Moir has obviously been popping along to.
What always astounds me about Glenda Slaggs of the Mail stable is how angry about other people’s lives they can get. You can practically feel the steam rising off the page as Moir gets into her stride:
“Francois Hollande? Who let him out of the hamster hutch? Silvio Berlusconi? He’s the ultimate pervy uncle. And Tony Blair? Not much more than a Nissan Micra Man, unleashed upon a world stage.”
I’m not even really sure what a “Nissan Micra Man” is. Someone who appreciates good fuel economy and a decent resale price? Someone who doesn’t need a hatchback?
Later in her column this week she quotes Conrad Black as a source of wisdom, lectures a cancer sufferer on tact – this from the woman who speculated about Stephen Gateley’s death before he was cold – and rounds off by comparing women in the cabinet to “a butcher [packing] out his budget sausages with breadcrumb.” If Jackie Smith et al were cheap sausages, I can only conclude that Jan Moir is offal.