Daisy Waugh eavesdrops on the chattering classes
… Forty-five per cent! Can’t be right can it? When do they get the time?
Means either your husband or mine is up to no good.
Right. No. I’m joking.
I don’t actually think Leo’s very interested in sex. He’s so wrapped up in his work – his BlackBerry’s melded to his hand. I don’t think he’d be able to put it down for long enough.
Depends how long it takes him, I suppose.
David’s the same. Absolutely obsessed. Works every hour God sends.
Christ. Don’t they all?
But one thing I’ll say for him. He’s not a cheat.
Of course he isn’t! David adores you.
Well, I hope so…
Not sure what I’d do if I thought Leo was cheating…
Do a Bobbitt on him, I hope. Anyway of course he isn’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He worships the ground you walk on!
He bloody should. The amount I do for him.
Any case they’re both as hopeless as each other, aren’t they? Can’t even fix themselves a sandwich. They wouldn’t know where to begin. They’d have to learn how to do things like pick up the telephone and book a hotel room. All by themselves.
Ain’t gonna happen.
That guy Bumper Wheatley – remember him? Spends half his week with prostitutes, apparently.
No! The sleazy bastard!
Tells Grace he’s working late and then he and that other barrister guy – Will something, with the incredibly beautiful wife – they head off to a brothel in – Tufnell Park. Or somewhere gross.
How do you know?
Oh God, it’s completely established. David told me. Actually there’s a whole bunch of them do it… But Richard’s sort of… lost it. He can’t keep away. He’s actually got quite a problem. Which is why it’s all coming out…
D’you think someone should tell Grace?
Well I thought of it…
And you know Iona’s husband’s been having an affair for years. With his secretary. How pathetic is that? And Ali and Stefan almost broke up after the baby was born. Over some ghastly Aussie girl from his gym…
And that idiot Harry actually left! Fell in love with a civil rights campaigner. Left the children. Left Sarah. Left everything. Set up camp in her flat in Notting Hill. Then one morning, she decided he was a stuffed shirt.
We could have told her that. Saved everyone a lot of trouble.
So she chucked him out, and he came padding right back home again…
And – oh God, I told you my stupid brother’s just been busted. Makes you think, though, doesn’t it?
Doesn’t it just.
I mean, our husbands may be crap in every other respect…
Yeah. But at least they don’t cheat.