Power and money – the aphrodisiacs that never let you down

Dave O'Connell

A Different View

It was the irrepressible Mrs Merton with her tongue firmly placed in cheek who once asked Paul Daniels’ wife Debbie McGee what it was that first attracted her to the small, bald millionaire magician.

It’s a question that the French media might well rephrase to put to the actress Julie Gayet if they were half as full of testosterone as their own President now appears to be.

And if Francois Hollande were a slightly more philosophical misogynist, he might take some solace from his ability to seduce a seemingly infinite number of beautiful women despite his boring and portly appearance.

But then the little Napoleon who preceded him, Nicolas Sarkozy, managed to hook up with one of the world’s top supermodels – albeit one in the autumn of her catwalk career – when he could hardly see higher than her navel.

And our own version of the Little General, Charlie Haughey, had quite a way with the ladies as well, despite his own vertical challenges. Although in fairness, the whiff of scandal and smell of Charvet shirts might have had something to do with that as well.

The common link seems to be that there are some women out there who thrive on power and money in the way that new babies thrive on mother’s milk.

Sometimes even one or the other will do – as in the case of the WAGs who plonk themselves into the lives of Premiership footballers, whose key attributes are healthy physiques and their even healthier bank balances.

The tabloids prove that many of these ladies will allow their footballing superstars a generous degree of latitude when it comes to their dalliances, once the credit card is still guaranteed to the max at home.

And quite frankly, that’s fine with the rest of us – because the truth is it’s none of our business.

None of us know what really goes on behind anyone else’s front door – and sometimes we’re not entirely aware what’s going on behind our own.

So if the French have a relaxed attitude to the notion of mistresses, then good luck to them. Indeed it would almost seem like a derogation of duties if their President didn’t have at least two ladies on the go to keep up with an ancient political tradition.

Francois Mitterrand did it and so did Jacques Chirac, and it didn’t seem to hugely affect their ability to do their job.

Perhaps that is just confirming the old adage that, if you want a job done well, give to a busy person – and a man trying to keep two homes afloat is certainly that.

In fairness to the French, perhaps it’s just the rest of us who are fascinated with the dalliances of the rich and famous – we might not be sophisticated enough to appreciate such sexual subtleties.

The mistresses of former Presidents were, by all accounts, open secrets among the French chattering classes, but nobody thought any less of their leaders because they were busier than normal in the boudoir.

If Francois Hollande were Irish or English and he turned up before the entire senior press corps of his nation – refusing to answer a single question about his private life in the midst of this scandal – he’d be hounded out of the room and possibly out of office.

 

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.