Near Pavilion – No. 20

Posted by in January's Magazine

Did you have a good Christmas? I hope so. I know I did. Spent mostly in California, I got talking to Bill Cosby on Boxing Day…but more of that later. Now to business. Many of the male readers, and some of the female ones, of this column will have…(here Leo – no doubt in his cups – tells us far too much about pleasuring himself in an ersatz yogic position all of which is a tad to, erm, robust for our timid gazette).

Well (continues Leo) I did that very party trick last week during the New Year’s festivities at a gathering on Mulholland Drive. Hosted by Tom Selleck and Sissy Spacek, the feat went down particularly well with recently dumped Liz Hurley whom I’m meeting in the nation’s capital next week. I’ve arranged to meet her ‘under the Fraser’s clock’ at eight on Friday. We’ll probably go for a couple of drinks in Mathers across the road then back to my suite at the Caledonian. A few swift cocktails and I’ll attempt to get fired straight in – judging by her latest activities with fat Warnie I think I’m in with good chance.



By now, a lot of you will have fully stuffed your faces, drunk yourselves both clever then stupid, tried to breed with the wrong partner and are even now probably regretting your actions and preparing to enter the reluctant world of the New Year’s Resolution. It’s no different in the wonderful cigar-chomping, taboo swilling, hairy fisted, champagne-wasting world of Leo Simpson – except of course my activities are far more exotic and interesting, involving more attractive people and well worthy of 800 extremely well paid words in your lowly, geographically subdued, bible.

Firstly, don’t feel too bad about yourselves, I too, have had a few slips ups, I made a few quasi-religious promises as requested by the Pope during his Summer visit, these included – ‘Less bagging off with movie stars’ plus ‘Trying to curb my more overt onanistic tendencies’. Sounds easy. But, well, there was the ‘Tron Legacy’ premiere in Paris last month where I met up with Jeff Bridges, Lisa Edelstein and Sheena Easton.

Suffice to say ‘Cuddy’ had the best night of her life since episode 4 series 3 of House when she was unconscious due to a strange, far fetched, Prince Rainier of Monaco Disease or some such thing they keep coming up with on that show. House and myself took turns at reviving her back to conscious by round the clock…(you can imagine – Ed).

It’s not that realistic, House, is it? The good doctor is a genius – fair enough – but he’s a bit rude. You’d think by now somebody might have taken the opportunity to give him a proper pasting. Me? You? Alan Carr’s jealous boyfriend? Or any one of the patients relatives? Who knows? But somebody should have done the decent thing and knocked his designer stubbled visage all over the ward and stuffed all that Vicodin down his chops in a ‘onesie’.

I’ve slipped up on the masturbatory promise as well. In my defence I had earlier been to a Command Performance with ‘blind as a bat’ Sharleen Spiteri, Sienna Miller and the juicy Lulu – so I suppose that doesn’t really count (though knocking off another two or three the next morning will probably have disappointed the more prudish among my fans).

Just a small footnote to end with…wait, I forgot, Bill Cosby…told me that he’d bought his wife a diamond ring and a Mercedes so that if she didn’t like the ring she could drive and get it exchanged in the new car. I replied that I’d bought my latest beau a pair of slippers and a dildo so that if she didn’t like the slippers she could go and f*** herself. Nice guy Bill.

Oh, that footnote, is it me or does everybody feel the Christian Dior advert with Jude Law in front of the Eiffel tower makes you think of him ‘blowing off’ rather than wearing a sophisticated up market scent? If you look closely you can see the poor girls nostrils twitching in a disapproving manner, almost as if Mr Law has just dropped a real eggy number from his stance some 20 yards away. Vive La Romance! An egg fuelled anal expulsion gently drafted on a light, beautiful, sensuous, Parisian wind – just enough to let her ‘know when he’ll be there.’ E-mail me at the usual address if you disagree – if I receive nothing I’ll just assume you’re with me on this one.

Have a big, bold, boisterous 2011. And remember. Keep your hands downs your pants and your eyes on the prize.

Leopold ‘Leo’ Simpson xx

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