Courtroom Drama

GSTAAD—Are any of you tired of reading about Ghislaine Maxwell and her sleazy life? Bored with old news repeated ad nauseam by people who never had—and still don’t have—a clue? Well, your intrepid high-life correspondent does have a clue, so here goes.

But before I go on about la Maxwell, a few thoughts about the drama taking place in Court 13 on the Strand, where I had the leading role in an 1986 drama—also starring Charles Moore and some lesser characters—that almost broke the poor little Greek boy and also impoverished our ex–great proprietor Algy Cluff. As readers of this column surely know, I loathe Hollywood types, those preening egomaniacal popinjays adored and worshipped by brain-dead zombies known as fans, featured as superheroes by tabloid and TV slime merchants posing as journalists. There are exceptions, of course, and among the exceptions is a man I’ve never met, but people that I respect speak highly of: Johnny Depp. Yes, I know, it looks bad for him right now, and worse is yet to come when the Amber Heard woman gives testimony, but from what I hear Depp is a total innocent, a very nice person who got hooked by a schemer par excellence, a man trusting enough of lawyers to sue a major British tabloid, not knowing what this involves. Johnny Depp in Edward ... Check Amazon for Pricing.

Well, I’ll tell you in a jiffy: Once you’re inside the court, a lawyer can suggest anything about you, as I have, to my regret, discovered. (I’ve never sued but have been sued many times.) It’s all privileged, Wild West stuff, and there’s nothing one can do about it. (I suggest to you, sir, that before you murdered your mother you raped her…) Depp had no idea what he was getting into when he was obviously outraged at what his ex-wife was telling the tabloids, and was encouraged by know-nothings to sue. He gives me the impression of being a Huckleberry-Puck kind of good fellow, naughty but innocent, the perfect fall guy. Many years ago I was approached by David Tang on behalf of Johnny Depp—it was at Jemima Goldsmith’s housewarming party, I believe—asking about large old sailing boats. I was brief and to the point: A gaff-rigged 150-footer will need a minimum of twelve crew plus captain, and will cost 3 million per annum. “Tell him to charter, no actor can afford that,” said the Greek voice of experience. Johnny didn’t listen and bought a large gaff-rigged schooner, which nearly bankrupted him.

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