Now that both his son and his first wife are dead [suicide, diseases brought on by lifelong coke addiction, respectively], curmudgeonly art critic Robert Hughes decides that "promiscuous sex with many anonymous partners without protection while at the same time experimenting with mind-expanding drugs in a consequence-free environment" does not, in fact, leave things "sound as a pound."
I'm sure it's all Diletta the Sicilian au pair's fault. So hard to find good help in Swingin' London, you know.
The curse of free love [timesonline.co.uk via wit of the staircase]
