A Prince Among Stones by Prince Rupert Loewenstein

floor.’
    Various guests caught her eye: Jacqueline de Ribes ‘in her fringed Nina Ricci’, the Maharajah of Jaipur, Victoria Ormsby-Gore ‘looking like Alice in Wonderland’ and Peter Sellers in his long black wig.
    Peter Sellers was the first show-business person I had got to know well, although he was not a client. We had been introduced through Grace, Countess of Dudley,  who had become a close friend – she was an elegant and highly educated Yugoslav who had previously been married to Prince Stas Radziwill. I used to play bridge with her and on one weekend visit to the house which she and the Earl of Dudley had near Amersham, among the guests were Peter Sellers and his first wife, Anne.
    We found we shared a sense of humour – though like many comedians he was moderato rather than allegro off-screen. He had a house in Italy near Sabaudia on the coast between Rome and Naples. One time Josephine and I were staying in the incredible palazzo created nearby by the Countess Volpi, the widow of the founder of the Venice Film Festival. Peter joined us there one evening. Someone remarked that there was a full moon, so the Countess looked through the window but could not see it. She summoned her butler and demanded, ‘Fioravanti, dov’è la luna?’ Peter and I both thought this was wonderful and from then on he would often sign off letters to me, ‘Dov’è la luna?’
    In one letter he apologised for not being able to meet up on one particular Sunday, because he would be ‘up north seeing an old friend of mine, Teevy Splurnes. He has the rare distinction of being an ex-hangman’s mate. Nowadays he runs a Corset Emporium and our housekeeper is an exclusive patron. I understand she is at present down to her last pair of Splurnes. So I know you will understand why we have to collect them for her . . .’  This was Peter back to his Goonish inventiveness – he did suggest that I might help Spike Milligan, and I enjoyed two or three hilarious lunches with Spike, but also it became clear that there was no money to look after . . . On the other hand Peter’s own business manager, Bill Willis, was extremely helpful in explaining to me some of the inner workings of the business of show business, and, indeed, was one of the people I turned to for advice when Mick first contacted me.
    Josephine and I went to Peter’s wedding to Britt Ekland in February 1964 – which was less than a month after they had met while both staying at the Dorchester Hotel; by the time of the White Ball they were already divorced. What we found extraordinary was that we were the only people at the wedding who were friends. The rest of the entourage were the hairdresser, the hairdresser’s boyfriend, the dressmaker, the boss of the hire car firm and various film directors and producers. It was a glimpse for me of the hermetically sealed world in which a superstar – which Peter had just become – can become trapped.
    In an album of cuttings about the White Ball, I came across a newspaper diary piece from earlier in 1969 which I had completely forgotten about. ‘Almost everyone would grab the chance of appearing in a film these days,’ the unknown diarist declared. ‘But I have discovered one reluctant actor. Prince Rupert von Loewenstein [ sic ] was offered a part in The Magic Christian by his friend Peter Sellers, who stars in this film. But he has decided against this chance of becoming a cinematic idol. His last reported stage appearance was as a spiv in a revue for charity while at Oxford.’ In any case, Equity rules would doubtless have jeopardised my chances of appearing in the film.
    Back at the White Ball, the Skatalites and Yes, who were providing the musical entertainment, had brought their own sound systems and there were, inevitably, some complaints to the local police station. Of the press cuttings about the ball, the headlines of virtually