March Newsletter 2017 – The Russian Edition

THE RUSSIAN EDITION:

Like the little Matryoshka dolls we will peel back the layers one by one…

Dolls?

I have to get this out now, before I end up on the Steppes along with the lemmings… How I wish I was Roadrunner, rather than Wile E Coyote.

It may be my last newsletter before some Mata Hari steps out of the shadows to smother me in KY and baby oil again, I have survived several previous attempts without putting up too much of a fight, nervous gas, moi?

So Donald is taking a pounding in the press, he may end up sitting at the table on his own with no one around to respond to his ravings. Cries for impeach ring out, from a professional point of view, Donald will look terrible in the colour, it will clash horribly with his foundation, but hey, it can’t get much worse, or can it!

I have also taken cast iron measures to ensure Donald cannot come back as me, much as he may try! Yes, there is a carefully planned list for when I finally decide to pass on my mantle, and it will be restricted to a 4 year term.

It is rumoured that ‘Vlad the Lad’ gave Donald a set of Oblique Strategy cards for Christmas, except rather than being the work of Brian Eno, Vlad has put his own spooky, little spin on them. Something of a curve ball, apparently it’s a baseball term, nothing to worry about.

Hand delivered by the gorgeous Svetlana, how could Donald resist, this won’t end happily, and when he finally realised it wasn’t Trivial Pursuit, he tried the Monopoly board, then he confused Twister for Twitter; give a me a consonant please Ms Vorderman. Rumours are that Ivanka has never been the same since Donald cheated using his red tie as an extra limb!

Putin appears to be laughing all the way past go, picking up considerably more than £200.

The Russian ministries are looking at all sorts of diversionary tactics, one of them aims to turn football hooliganism into a sport, my dear friend Tony ably supported by Andreas and Mark will ensure it kicks off nicely, none of that passing it back sedately to one of your defenders, the boot will be definitely laid into the opponents midfield. We’ve already seen the Zoltan (sic.) and young Mings practising, Vinnie Jones and the ‘Crazy Gang’ would love it.

The Florentines have been playing a game like this for centuries called ‘Calcio Storico’. It’s not quite as violent as the Russians would like, but it has possibilities.

The Italians have been playing another game for decades, it has not yet descended into violence, not on my account, however I have been sorely tempted over the years. It is played on a train and involves the seating arrangement.

Just the Ticket

In Italy you are required to reserve a seat when buying a train ticket, and on the three train journeys I have taken there this week I have found someone sitting in my seat, much like daddy bear. Now, is it because they are rebels and don’t believe in rules, do they for some strange reason prefer my seat, or are they generously keeping it warm?

As one or two of you know I speak Italian, reasonably well; well enough to understand and be understood. So it required gently asking the first two of them to move, in fact as far as to the seat opposite, although one was slightly affronted by my requested, huffing as he moved his newspaper. On the third occasion an ‘Oi’, as my polite request fell on deaf ears, my ‘rudeness’ prompted a change of carriage for the miscreant.

It could have descended into worse, a lady friend of mine who is not backward in coming forwards would have commented, ‘Hold me earrings I’m goin’ in!’

I must admit I would miss it, if it didn’t happen!

If only I were a Drone.

Copyright © 2017 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

Volpe Sartoriale

http://www.volpesartoriale.com

The new website is up and running, full of photos and with a video still to come, it is not and is never likely to be a trading website, but more a window into the world of clothing we make.

I must say a huge ‘Thank you’ to my close friend and model Kirk Newmann, and the producer and photographer James Nader of Visual Prestige Agency. The results speak for themselves, incredibly impressive and innovative work.

The blog and existing website will continue as is, there is a menu tag for the new website on the old and visa-versa.

Sadly for you lot I will continue to attempt to write.

Finally before a Newsletter, a thank you to each and every one of you who has made what I do so much fun. Without this I would not be doing a job I love and dealing with people I consider friends. ‘Thank you’ I’ll be coming back as me too!

So, without further ado.

Bet you wondered where I had got too!

Well, like Santa Claus I have been dealing with a very long list of requests.

The list stretches to the gates of Hades and almost to a man, or woman there was a theme. Why do you want to come back as me? It’s not as if I am a playboy of the status of Lapo Elkann. Who he you ask?

Lapo is the grandson of Gianni Agnelli, and don’t ask, who he? Look it up, I am not Wikipedia, I only write this and I still have to look things up!

Lapo is trying his hardest to keep up with me, but it seems like it snows all year round in his world, and where as the rest of us would have a minor tantrum if all was not well with the world, Lapo pretends he has been kidnapped, and with his well-documented issues of what seems real to him, well m’lud I rest my case.

Yet I still wonder why me?

Trips to exotic locations. Always on a plane with a party to go to, and to paraphrase a thousand songs “New York, St Tropez, Tokyo, Miami and Ibiza, da da da”.

I could be a songwriter and I can’t wait to become Interstellar star on Jupiter, Mars, Alpha Centauri, Zubenelgenubi, well U all know where this is disappearing!

Superstar

Superstar

Sheila from BA is plying me with champagne, ensuring that my fun levels are topped up. After all, everybody loves champagne…

I am Pitbull without the looks, off the leash and I’m not wearing a muzzle, I am celebrating, mazel tov!

As sure as eggs are eggs (thoughts are turning to Easter already?), Jake has reminded me that it is only a certified number of sleeps to Christmas, and if I hadn’t stopped him, he would have reeled off the number of hours, minutes, perhaps snowflakes before the auspicious day. He’s 33 years old and yet seems keener than a 10 year old and trying to deflect from the performance of his beloved Wolves.

OK, OK, perhaps I’m a jaded old trump, but I am tiring of the Americanisation of everything.

The hands across the sea relationship now seems like Uncle Sam has his hand in our back pocket and is rummaging around for our wallet.

Black Friday and Cyber Monday, what are they? An event crammed between Trick or Treat and the Nightmare before Christmas?

There is recount going on in 3 American States because of Vlad the Lad’s apparent handiwork, Hillary is personally recounting all the votes, one for me, one for me…

Hopefully it will take her four years.

I would believe in conspiracy, but the aluminium foil helmet and dongle I fashioned myself means I now have Blueteeth, and wifi streaming directly into my brain, the X-ray specs I bought out of the back of a comic as a kid aged seven are finally working!

Mr Assange has been inside my head, you didn’t stay long did you Jules? Heheheh!

Meanwhile Lord Farage of Brexeter, will be attempting to remove a friend of mine from his current position, no, no not our excellent Ambassador to the United States, mind you I’m sure Sir Kim might be happier if it were the case.

I can see Donald throwing these lavish White House parties where there will be a dress code and all the men have to wear these ridiculously long red ties, and not much else, which would probably be much more up Nige’s street.

However it is pantomime season and I received an email from my celebrity friend who has been remarkably quiet of late. I removed him from the mailing list at his behest because he had complained that my life seemed so much more fun than his, but it looks like he has been playing catch up via the website.

Well yes, of course it is, and when you are relegated to the horse’s arse it can feel a bit like pushing something uphill. However Nige is happy to take on this role as long as The Donald takes up the front end and the Pony Club can plait his mane.

Imagine it; The Donald and Nige doing dressage, like Crystal Tips and Alistair, it will be more like Doctor Dolittle’s Pushme-Pullyou, you could franchise it for TV, and call it ‘Ballroom Blitz’ compered by Mickey Mouse dressed as a magician and waving a wand. Couples could include….. Why don’t you think about it?

I’ll start you off with Jeremy Clarkson and James May; Michael Gove and Michael Gove, Dear SIlvio and Vlad the Lad…

Suggestions on the back of a stamped, addressed envelope, don’t forget to include one of the new fivers, tallow aren’t I!

Finally the travel section, well given the amount I travel it is long overdue. Well maybe in the bumper Christmas edition of he newsletter!

 

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Bored Games

So I was bored on a flight, and this shows just how quickly I can come up with this drivel.

It’s an old favourite, much like me. However I think now is the time to resurrect it; unlike me, who should be left to fester.

A small reminder of the weird and wonderful world that exists inside my head.

For years I have entertained myself and friends on holiday with a game of “What shoes would they really wear?”

This is a game where we try to imagine the preferred footwear of the scantily dressed people around the pool whilst on holiday. It is inspired by Carl Lewis wearing a pair of red stilettos, and after a couple of drinks it can get very, very silly.

This game is however a far more sinister one, and inspired by recent events.

So here are 10 nightmare scenarios of people and the things they might say, stood at the end of your bed, hopefully not naked, and not saying they are ready for fun!

Not in order of preference.

1: Jeffrey Archer – “Now I remember what the brown envelope was for!”

2: Pete Burns – “Do you think my lips look big in this?”

3: Beyonce – “You should have put a ring on it.”

4: Boris Johnson – “Do you like our new contactless payment system?”

5: Two in one; Jocelyn Wildenstein wearing a Michael Jackson mask or Michael wearing a Jocelyn mask. – “Billy Jean is not my son.”

6: Vladimir Putin – “Have you noticed the remarkable likeness of this object to my natural head?”

But to be honest the mere fact that Vlad the impaler is stood at the end of your bed holding anything would be scary enough.

7: Gordon Ramsay: “Welcome to my new series of bedroom nightmares and tonight we’ll be sprinkling everything with chillies.”

The other game to play, is a sweepstake whilst watching a Gordon Ramsay programme and betting how long it is before he whips his shirt off.

8: Dave Cameron: “This is how we played a game of ‘hide and seek’ at Eton.”

9: Dolly the sheep, Dolly the sheep, Dolly the sheep, Dolly the sheep, Dolly the Sheep…… You get the idea – “behhhh!”

10: Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh: “X marks the spot.”

And one for luck.

11: Dear Silvio – Are you wearing my hairpiece?

Luckily for you, I have omitted those involving Carol Vorderman, Delia Smith, Luis Suarez, the Angry Birds, The TellyTubbies and Pepper Pig!

After 10 horror stories a couple of happy memories that will have more than likely have involved the demon drink.

And I have avoided the obvious, which would be waking on a boat in Ibiza, in the shadow of Es Vedra, surrounded by; well, Bowfinger knows!

1: Jeremy King who would clearly be impeccably dressed as always.

Adam and I would be asleep on separate banquets in The Wolseley. Having fallen asleep following an extremely long evening of excellent food and fine wine. The girls would have left us to our own devices and gone off clubbing.

The staff will have taken pity on us and as we slept off dinner, covered us with linen tablecloths and propped our heads up on empty champagne bottles. We would be woken by the smell of a Wolseley full English breakfast and a restorative glass of champagne.

2: The Green Parrot in Green Park – perched on my big toe. I am dressed in the Emperor’s new clothes, warmed by the rays of the sun and the morning dew on my back. Another victim of a night on the Absinthe, and the Emerald Fairy, I stroll across the park towards The Wolseley and a handmaiden feeds me what looks like a peeled grape and hands me a soft towelling robe to preserve my modesty and Marie’s blushes.

 

Copyright © 2014 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

July 2011 – Volpe Newsletter

I know you are still waiting, like Cinderella I have until midnight to get this out. And for those wags amongst you who might suggest that I am more, ugly sister than down trodden beauty, I’d thought I’d get the insult in first.

If you’re interested, and clearly you won’t be, my D list celebrity is doing Punch and Judy on the beach at Hastings. Punch and Judy is frightening enough, OK not quite clown level, but I’m sure he will make it his own. Although I think that “Now is the winter of my discontent”, is not going to appeal to a bunch of 8 year olds.

What an interesting month!

Firstly, congratulations are in order.

David Tait and his 5 friends completed the Etape stage of the Tour de France. A remarkable feat, and all in the aid of charity. Now if David could just stay off the bike, I’m fed up of taking his suits in.

You know how I like to rib our diminutive foreign leaders. First dear Silvio, and now, Monsiuer Sarkozy, brawling in public. I couldn’t imagine Dave Cameron fighting like this, I mean, he’d need his man in the corner, Marquis of Queensbury rules and by the time the anger was expressed on his heavily furrowed brow, the No 10 press office would claim another crushing victory. By all accounts he is looking to take on the huge Klitchko brothers in a tag fight. Not sure who’ll be behind him in his corner, but I’m sure little George (or his alter ego Gideon) will volunteer.

Summer is just around the corner or so I have been told, I’d go and look, but I’m not sure that I can be bothered to move all my blankets.

I dimly remember we’d had a day of warm weather and it looks as if it might last a few days. Oooops, slightly wrong there. Shorts and flip-flops as far as the eye can see. Do people not realise just how grubby their feet become wandering the streets of London?

And joy, the heady cocktail of alcohol and warm air. Last night two people attempted to urinate in our basement. The front of casa Adrian is now electrified and the next person to whip it out will be in for a shock, caught on film and posted on Youtube.

Not that this has been the first attempt to use our basement for anything but normal comings and goings. A particularly difficult neighbour, who felt my home was her castle, and dealing drugs has been popular, but they were always surprisingly easy to scare away. Shirtless and sporting a weapon, a la Putin has always worked. You should check out FPSRussia on Youtube. Goodness knows how Jake finds all these things, but whilst the football season is in repose, he’s nothing else to do.

As if risen from the dead, Mark is back. Still persona non grata with BA he has turned his attention to peace in the Middle East, but the thought of him trying to broker a deal between 2 warring factions, whilst trying to make money out of it at the same time, makes the alcohol in my blood run cold.

A friend has just returned from Bologna, with a visit to Drogheria della Rosa and Emanuele. He mentioned my name and was royally treated, not the normal response elsewhere when my name is mentioned, but I’ve learned to cope with this. However, it did elicit the gift of a very fine bottle of red wine from Emanuele. So come on the rest of you, get yourselves out there, my wine cellar is looking a little empty!

For those of you who have been asking, I have passed the baton of biggin’ it up in Ibiza to Ollie this year. I have known Ollie many years. He is getting married at the end of August, and as a wedding present to himself, has bought a Jensen Interceptor and a petrol station. As I recall, it is good for about 8 miles to the gallon. So, about what we can expect from Ollie in Ibiza. The carnage will be well documented, and I’ll make sure he visits Neil for a pre-wedding tattoo.

Jake, stop looking at me like that, a Jensen Interceptor is not a Star Wars prop.

Soon to be available on Twitter, or so it has been suggested.

PS Something about a SALE

Which I will be here for in its entirety.

Sent from my iPad or so it seems

 

Copyright © 2011 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

November 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

Is everyone as excited as I am about the Royal Wedding? Like Dave, I camped in The Mall for Chas and Di, but I’ll probably be a bit too busy to be there this time.

The meeting with the accountant was a little disappointing. He strongly advised me not to try and slip one or two trifling things past the taxman. So it will be arrivederci  to Damian my personal  photographer (he never made me look as bad as Nick Clegg),  Mandy my stylist (once I dress up, she and I are one so she’ll never really disappear), and it’s adieu to Nils (nails), Carmen (waxing), Ricardo (the other waxing), Twinkle (Twinkies) and  Mai Lee (who has daily struggled to pull the condom over my head to keep me looking as smooth-skinned as Dave or a baby’s bottom. There’s not much in it, to be honest. If, as I suspect, you’re not regular Guardian readers or otherwise left-leaning (professional tailor’s term), do check out Steve Bell’s cartoons. Oh and Jacob… only joking.

I let Neil snipe me for Tony Blair’s nail clippings, which were amongst Cherie’s various wacky offerings on ebay this month. Neil says they’re an aphrodisiac lure for the pigeons, but Neil, I‘ve seen the skulls and voodoo stuff in your shop, and suspect you have a far more sinister motive in mind.

Next it will be Elvis’s sweat, Maradona’s pacemaker, Berlusconi’s phone book, the children’s round-nosed scissors Lord Sugar uses on his beard and Madonna’s conical bra. By the way, I have a replica of that I like to wear at weekends when I like people to call me Mandy. But as Neil would say: “Peace”. He’s off to India, and I needn’t say more, if you are keeping up.

Pink, once he’s escaped sciatica and Charlene, has been touring Europe tattooing anything with a pulse. My friend Martin, love god of Ibiza’s Sa Trinxa, is also touring Europe for not entirely different reasons and also insists on a pulse and a fit body. Martin makes his first appearance in this newsletter so I can ski for free in Verbier where he’s guesting this winter. Eugenia wanted to add more but even in this rag of a newsletter I cannot repeat her thoughts. Close your mouth, dear.

After receiving October’s newsletter, Sunil texts from the world capital of taste and refinement that is Dubai, to tell me we share an experience with last month’s celebrity rock chick. Serendipity, or pity us both, depending on your thoughts on the matter. It was a very long time ago, and neither of us is Steve Tyler and don’t want to be. Well apart from that bit in the elevator.

This month has also seen Ireland accept a large donation of European overdraft as a result of maxing out the credit cards. Also the Koreans are hurling slightly more than insults at each other. I intensely dislike the thought of Kim Jong Il willy waving, but that thought has revived a long-time Volpe favourite; those people stood naked at the foot of my bed saying they are ready for fun.  So perhaps I should start the list with world leaders.

But before I do, here’s a mention for all of those of you who begged to be mentioned. Don’t worry, you asked not to be named, but you know who you are. No, I don’t understand that either, but the customer is always right, or so you think.

1: Bill Clinton – just ask Bob

2: While we are at it…Hillary

3: Vladimir ‘The bare-breasted Siberian cat-strangler’ Putin. Yes, those rare tigers are safe in his hands.

4: Dave Cameron. The condom-on-the-head look doesn’t make the policies any smoother, safer or easier to swallow. And I don’t want him offering Nick Clegg to sweeten the deal

5: Katie Price (aka Jordan. NB not the country). Doesn’t she look like she might explode one day like an angry carrot?

6: Ann Widdicombe. A rumba in the jungle is off my dance card.

7: Gordon Ramsay. This is the man who never needs an excuse to get his shirt off in front of the camera. However I’m starting to feel slightly sorry for him with his in-law problems.

8: Mickey Rourke. See Katie Price except like an explosion in a cheek filler factory

9: Jocelyn Wildenstein – see Mickey Rourke and Katie Price. I mean, if I’d wanted a cat…

10: One for the wife’s many obsessions – Harvey Keitel. A formerly good-looking man of a certain age who’s morphing into an elderly lady. It happens. See also: Mickey Rourke, Oliver Reed and David Hemmings.

 

Copyright © 2010 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.