Matthew Steeples eliminates the creeps from his life
A friend of mine recently became the agent for Nigel Farage. We didn’t fall out. We had, instead, a most civilised lunch at The Rib Room at the Carlton Tower and argued a bit but by the end of it, we were just as we were before.
In the last two days, however, I’ve had to put up with a loser and a twerp named Rupert James and his diatribe of nastiness on Facebook and elsewhere. This sad, whingebag of an old man from some remote part of Cheshire (and Canada) took umbrage at me remarking on his social media posts and attacked my great friend Gina Miller – a courageous lady who has simply challenged Article 50 as she believes “these things should be debated and looked at in parliament”.
Alongside his weird chums Glenmore Trenear Harvey (some old freak of a sea dog who thinks he’s James Bond and hangs out on cruise boats with ageing old dears), Huw Shakeshaft (a man who annoyed all and sundry at La Brasserie in South Kensington by singing Welsh “s**t” choir music at the top his voice and drops the name of his warmonger “chum” Donald Rumsfeld constantly) and Richard Neagle (an opinionated know-all hypocrite who cannot decide who to support but really sides with the nasty lot), James decided to brand me a “bigot” and “exceptionally rude”.
He called me “childish” and “irrelevant” and said my knowledge of the “financial sector” was “on the top of a pin head”.
I say: Well done to the lot of them. They’ve made me laugh like a drain and I hope they keep hating me. I love having a new bunch of Cruella de Vil’s in my life.