Sir David

In honor of my friend, the late Sir David Tang.

David Tang was a rich kid who ended up doing various things in his adult life (lawyer, university lecturer, businessman, Honorary Consul of Cuba in Hong Kong, author, etc) but was basically a name-dropper who considered himself a cultured gentleman and popular man about town, with even the likes of Princess Diana as his “friends.” With his phony British upper-class accent and his eccentric ways, and patronage of his wealthy sycophants – whom he used as his wallets – he was able to fool everyone. He died a pauper in 2017 at age 63 (liver cancer) and his belongings – including his used luggage – had to be sold off. Indeed, the whisper in high society was and still is that Sir David Tang – often referred to as “London’s best-connected man” – left almost nothing behind, though after he croaked, the company he founded was able to make some money out of his name by issuing a commemorative cigar. The last quarter of Sir David cigar tastes bitter towards the end and the draw is abysmal. A bit like the latter part of David’s life.

People need to know that hanging out with celebrities, adorning themselves with expensive accoutrements and quaffing expensive wines won’t make them an A-lister.

If you apply lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig.

Even if you name it “Dorothy” or “Paula.”

On the other hand, just because you are the prime minister’s wife or one of his sons, doesn’t mean you can waddle around all day in sandals and flip flops.

There’s such a thing called “dress code.”

And in case you haven’t heard, when it comes to class, either you have it, or you don’t.

It’s not something you can buy.

Nuff said.

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