Now he is begging after I sent the video of him with his two lovers. His life is in my hands, writes LIZ JONES
By
LIZ JONES FOR YOU MAGAZINE
Published: 14:02 GMT, 31 January 2025 | Updated: 14:09 GMT, 31 January 2025
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The fallout is immense. Having pressed ‘send’ on the surveillance videos and stills of him with the blonde on NYE and, just now, in real time, with the short brunette in fur hat in a bar, we wait. We film as he peers at his phone. His face crumples. The jig is up. He realises his life is in my hands.
Seeing him with two different women in the space of three days is heartbreaking. The brunette spends most of Saturday in his flat. In the evening, they get into an
Uber for a date. Scrolling footage, you can’t help but compare yourself. Why blow me out on NYE for that? Why cancel me at the weekend for her? And she’s so young!
Later that night, he embarks frantically on damage limitation. ‘What are you doing? You’re supposed to be on my side, my ally. I did not expect. Why to destroy? Please have my back.’
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Typical narcissistic behaviour. Accept no blame. When that doesn’t work, he moves on to plan B. ‘I am sorry. You don’t need to destroy me, please. I was sick on NYE, that is the truth. Please forgive me. I thought we were friends. You said you were happy to be lovers.’
I told him that when he left my hotel room at 1am he said he has ‘no girlfriend, no mistress’. And ‘I do want my chance so no other women is a given. There has to be a concrete plan.’
‘I never said that.’
I copy and paste his text and send it to him. I tell him to read my takedown of my husband (that piece made number four on Twitter; I doubt any woman will touch my ex with a bargepole). I also tell him he works very short hours (I’d tracked him to his office).
‘Please, Liz. It’s not how you are thinking. My child depends on my living. I am begging you. We are friends.’
‘Friends? Are you insane? What friend does that on someone’s birthday? You lie, you cancel, you never paid for one glass of wine. I noticed you paid for the dwarf’s drinks and tickets to see a cartoon. Your excuses were so lame: “I don’t like birthdays.”
“I don’t like hotel checkout.” You aren’t even good at cheating.’
I send a photo of me. ‘You didn’t deserve me. Date women with better fashion sense in future.’
After he gets my photo he types: ‘I wish we didn’t have to cut off.’ Men. So predictable.
He obviously had sex with both. When I ask point blank, he says, ‘It was difficult, the distance. How would I slot into your celebrity life? [FFS.] I did feel something with you that was completely different. Give me a chance to explain.’
He says the blonde, whom he met in the last two months, is ‘gone’. Then he says the brunette has been blackmailing him.
‘Ridiculous! Who goes to a cartoon with a blackmailer. You held hands! You look like her grandfather!’
‘That’s why it’s called blackmail. I had to keep her happy. She’s dangerous.’ He says of her ‘that is over now’. He wants a ‘forever partner’. I ask if he thought of me as he helped the blonde stagger back to his flat. ‘Of course. As you can imagine, the few friends around me ask only about you.’
‘Are there more than those two?’
‘No others. Everyone is out of my life. It’s over. I need help. I will never lie to you again. Come on, Liz. Talk to me. Just meet me.’ This is plan C. Trying to win me back.
I tell him he talks in riddles and, anyway, he’d doubtless cancel.
I start to see the humour in finding myself enmired with such a t***. I tell him it was fun, getting alerts that ‘special ops are outside target’s flat’ and ‘lights have dimmed’ and ‘copy that’ and ‘female seems inebriated’. ‘He is now putting out rubbish, seems to have showered.’ But seeing him with other women was so painful when, only a couple of days before, his stubby fingers were all over me. I feel sick. Even the hardened ex-Met guys feel sorry for me.
I realise he’s pathetic. I tell him he looks miserable on the date with the fur-hatted dwarf. They don’t smile once, sit far apart, while in the restaurant with me he was smiling, his arm slung around my shoulder. ‘Miserable? Yup. Minus-zero affection.’
I have to ask. ‘Was sex with me better than with the drunk and the dwarf?’
‘A million times. I am stupid. I know your value. I have always been super attracted to you.’
I tell him I won’t call the females he f***ed, I won’t publish the videos or his name because I loved him, or at least who I thought he was. But I also tell him he should not treat anyone badly, as he will destroy himself.
‘Thank you with all my heart.’
Seconds later: ‘So let me come to Istanbul. It was in the plan. I am happy to pay for whatever.’ I’m there for a week, working.
‘We made that plan before the blonde and the foetus in a fur hat.’
‘That will haunt me until the day I die.’
Good grief.