Page 13: Cocaine snorted out of codpiece at APS-listed school’s reunion
It was a school reunion, but not as we know it. A well-known graduate of an elite Melbourne school had tongues wagging with his raunchy outfit at a recent function — and what partygoers snorted off it.
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The posh and the privileged at 3142 are angry about the bad-boy behaviour of their husbands getting out.
More than they are with the problem their trouser snakes are having keeping it er, in.
No, it’s not the bad behaviour of the blokes in Gucci loafers with upturned collars that has grossed out the ladies of Toorak.
It’s that the gossip has jumped the lines at the Royal South Yarra Tennis Club courts and into the lines at the local supermarkets.
It just won’t do-oooo, dahling!
The boys’ trip that went viral (herpes, anyone?) has tentacles reaching everywhere, from our bricks and mortar to mining industry. Boom!
Legal letters and phone calls from the seriously scandalised have been flying in faster than the ladies lining up at Liberty Belle this week for some pre-race Cup Carnival refreshening.
Our favourite is from colourful lawyer Anthony Condello advising Page 13 to “cease and desist” writing about his client.
Said client believes he was the “intended subject-matter” about the playboy kidnapped by bikies who threatened to cut off his plaything.
You can’t make this stuff up!
More of that later. Condello’s letter only goes to prove Page 13 is on the mah-nay.
A recent reunion of alumni at one APS-listed school had the feel of dirty doings at the Skull and Bones secret society at Yale; former US president George W Bush went there.
Closer to home, a well-known mover and um, breaker, was declared BOG of the reunion when he appeared late in the night wearing what looked like a codpiece.
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He sashayed through the testosterone-fuelled mob as they chanted (hopefully not with the lyrics “I wish all the ladies…”)
Codpieces used to be worn to protect the private parts in earlier centuries, but the white lines later sniffed off the cod piece are from more modern times.
Back to our privileged playboy. The story from the Toorak vault goes that he was hooded and kidnapped by bikies, only to wake up in a white room lined with plastic. Cripes!
The bikes saw him driving his flashy cars and wanted in on the action.
With a knife to rival the one waved about by Crocodile Dundee, they said if he didn’t show them the money, he might be singing like an Italian castrato. Suffice to say, he paid up.
Also exposed as the vault creaked open, is that our blue-chip boys sometimes have more than a plum in their mouths.