I do love a good Tatler and the February issue with the Duchess of Cambridge on the cover was a no-brainer. It was in the supermarket trolley before you can say irrelevant, irreverent, superficial and thoroughly unconnected with life in Aotearoa - unless you count that photograph of Sean Fitzpatrick at an Olympic event on page 159 which actually kind of spoiled it for me since it's the sheer other-worldiness that's so captivating.
It looks like Fitzpatrick attended the worthiest, most sensible, event in London that month. The social pages also covered no-expense-spared glittering parties - attended by counts, countesses, lords, princesses and women called Tallulah, Cosima and Daisy -in places such as Chelsea, Mayfair and Bond Street.
Tatler magazine, part of the glamorous Condé Nast stable, has been dispensing high society gossip and satire in one form or another since 1709. One editor described it as an "upper class comic". The UK-based magazine documents the foibles and excesses of the moneyed set while unapologetically poking the borax at them. Is it A: the ultimate guide to being posh? Or B: are they just having a laugh? The answer is C: Both of the above.
There are articles called 'DO PUT A SOCK IN IT!': How to muzzle beauty therapists who blither on and SEA FEVER! Booze, bonking and beautiful girls and boys ahoy! Must be the Yacht Week. But the most fascinating one has to be TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE? Why nothing says posh more than piddling in public.
Tatler has long been the ultimate guide to etiquette but bothers with nothing as dull as writing thank you notes or what to wear to a wedding. In the February issue you'll discover that "nothing shows power like weeing outside" and why Labradors are for toffs even though they sniff "at stationary crotches" and regard "the human leg a sex aid".
