Wednesday, 5 June 2013


London is being flocked by more and more people, people who can afford to live where the sun shines and the skies are not cloudy all day. And why is that?  Because they can afford it. Oh, I know the headlines claim that the UK has lost its footing in world markets and that the economy has hit a triple recession, and that first time buyers might as well move to Grenada and live off bananas, whilst the latest batch of university graduates ought to strike out with their backpacks and build schools in exchange for a dry hut in either Uganda or Belize.

And yet it is official: this capital boats more multi-millionaires than Tokyo, Singapore and even New York…The current definition of a multi-millionaire is anyone who has more than £19 million. That equates to $30 million.

London’s plutocrats are not all British born: think Russian football club owner, Asian steel tycoons, sheiks from Qatar and those from the Continent fleeing their newly empowered Euro Taxman. Interestingly, New York still ranks as Billionaire Central. They might have 70, but London claims to be the home to 54 according to the newspapers.

But what comes attached to Mr. Big Bucks like hard-to-remove, pain in the neck barnacles on the bottom of a ship’s hull? Shebugs. And Queen Shebugs no less. The word ruthless applies to them in every way imaginable.

A top British club, which shall remain nameless, has become badly infected with the pestilence. Not that they haven’t set foot in there before. Pests that they are, they infiltrate any wall, no matter how thick or well sealed they might be: if you live in a hot humid country, think cockroaches. Their presence has become as annoying and destructive as the wave of moths assaulting London cupboards this year. They are disgusting to look at and blooming expensive to remove.

This past Saturday night at the club was a show in and of itself.  On our way to the dance floor, a scantily clad brunette applied her belly dancing moves as her weapon of choice for an audience of one diner in a dinner jacket. I quickly explained to my guests that the bottle blonde Shebug who was encroaching upon our territory was not out to snap our seats at the bar, but was on the look out for potential targets. (Not something one hopes  to have to warn her guests about…)

To remedy the situation, I herded our group up to the cigar room for a change of air. Unfortunately, there we found Boris Becker surrounded by a bevy of hungry ones despite the presence of Mrs Becker… Back downstairs, a tall blonde twirled about wearing a very short girlie tutu. Upon closer inspection, it tuned out to be Heidi Klum, partying very hard post divorce from singer Seal. (No doubt a smaller swarm of Hebugs had attached itself to her entourage...) By then I had run out of comfortable corners so we called it a night. Plus, I had forgotten to bring bug swatters as a precaution; they just do not fit in a minaudière, do they?

The Shebug/Hebug invasion has polluted the waters of this once great place. The club’s original owner sold it a few years back and has opened a new one.  Many of the original members have already jumped ship. 

The fees are even steeper, but than again, keeping an exclusive and reputable nightspot Shebug- free is worth it!

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