Meet: Sophie Winkleman

Takimag.com is more often than not an acrid, race-baiting environment. The comments section is so noxious it could kill a yak at 30 paces. And so, sometimes, can Taki Theodoracopoulos -- the sites founder -- be himself. If I hadn't met him at a boozy dinner once, but knew him solely from his columns ... I might never have linked to him. He is -- how does one say this? -- not P.C.

And yet, on occasion, Taki is quite right (on the Bush Dubya wars), quite existentially revealing (on growing old) and quite charming. At no time is Theodoracopoulos more charming as when he refrains from writing about race altogether (thank heaven for little miracles) and simply informs us of his latest crush. Like this, from Taki Theodoracopoulos:

"Speaking of Alistair and the Goldsmiths, Jemima Khan had a housewarming party in Oxfordshire that left me quite warm in places one does not mention in the Speccie’s elegant pages (unlike my Low Life colleague Jeremy Clarke, who as usual had me in stitches writing about my mentor Porfirio Rubirosa’s big bamboo last week). Many beautiful young women came to one of England’s prettiest houses, the Bath Stone alone distracting my eye from the female forms floating about. The place was full of old friends, with a spiffy Nicky Haslam flitting around dropping smoldering Noel Cowardisms and other verbal gems such as, 'veddy, veddy vulgar to be confrontationally erotic.'

"I sat next to the smartest man in the house by far, Sir Bob Geldof, downing vodkas nonstop and taking it all in when a dream walked up and ruined my evening. 'You promised in Regensburg I was the only one,” said the beauty, 'so what’s all this about Jessica Raine and Rebecca Hall and that deputy editor of yours?' I tried to speak but in the state I was in no sound came out, just some stuttering and hard swallowing. Then I kissed the dream’s hand and collapsed on Bob Geldof, who said something like, “Get the f—- off me, you f———fool.'

"It was about three years ago in the Thurn Und Taxis Palace in Regensburg for Maya Schoenburg’s birthday where I cornered a beauty named Sophie and chatted her up for one hour without respite. After exactly sixty minutes of the longest soliloquy ever, Sophie smiled ever so sweetly, gave me a light kiss on the cheek, and left on the arm of Lord Freddy Windsor, whom she married soon after."

This blogger does not know about Sophie or Jessica Raines -- but Rebecca Hall is ... just absolutely goddam fetching. Even a paleoconservative and a Centrist can agree on that point.