It's quite obvious that Mr. Saatchi, that Grand Patron of the Farts, ooops, sorry, I mean the Arts, is entirely innocent of any, er, application of force against the delicious Nigella, it was just a case of mistaken identity. It has been apparent for years that Mr. Saatchi's eyesight is deteriorating rapidly because only someone who is half blind could buy the rubbish he does in the art world. I have applied "zee little gray cells" and I can now tell you with the very greatest confidence that at the time this photo was taken (and God bless the scrofulous lurking hack who took it), Mr. Saatchi was under the misapprehension that he was lunching with Tracey Emin:
In his misunderstanding he was probably saying something along the lines of 'how in hell did I spend all that dosh on your crap non-art?' And whatever the answer was, he added something like, 'Gimme it back - now!' If, having come to his senses, he now sells off his collection for a penny in the pound and thus brings about the implosion of the phoney, post-modernist art racket then he will deserve the thanks of a grateful nation.
In the meantime, what can one say except, perhaps, that he should have gone to SpecSavers!
