Last month a lone paparazzi took pictures of the ‘The Saatchi Strangler’ in the act of throttling his wife, Nigella Lawson during an argument at a restaurant in London. At the time Charles Saatchi said they were just playing but nobody believed him. Nigella said nothing.
When the police gave Charlie a slap on the wrist and let him slink away, Nigella kept her mouth shut and didn’t utter a word to the press.
And now that Nigella and Charles’ marriage is visiting The High Court and being forced to lie down in a shallow grave next to Charles’ reputation, Nigella still isn’t saying anything.
Mailonline say that Nigella will never speak about anything ever again, especially the terms of her divorce or it’s financial settlement. Well shit! How are we supposed to know who got custody of Tracy Enema’s (typo, it stays) manky old bed. That’s the question on everyone’s lips right now. WHO!
In case you didn’t know back in 1999 My Bed (as it was called) was considered a masterpiece of modern day ‘installationalism’ and was even listed for a Turner Prize! In fact it was just a bed with bedsheets artistically stained with Tracy’s bodily secretions. That’s the nasty-assed objet d’art below.
Anyway, Charles Saatchi absolutely loved My Bed. In fact so much did Charles love Tracy’s bodily fluids that he paid her £150k to own them. He then put them on show at his Saatchi Gallery so that the entire nation could see how a millionaire piece of trash and his money could so easily be parted. When everyone had finished laughing at him he then installed ‘My Bed‘ in a dedicated room at his home in Chelsea.
The full divorce document was lodged with The High Court on Friday but neither party showed up. Baroness Fiona Shackleton is representing Nigella while the Saatchi Strangler is representing himself. A whole stack of papers were filed listing every detail of every asset. An agreement has already been reached, everything has to be kept secret.
As neither party will talk about any of this it looks like My Bed has been lost to the nation forever.
Oh well. Never mind, we still have this.