“Doug, you tiny little fairy, you arrested boy, I will break your back over my knee in the press and I will push your face inside out in private or public . . . Mention my name anywhere ever again, and we’re going to find out two things: First, whose word means anything anymore in this town. Second, how many times I can slam my fist into your face before someone pulls me off you.” He signed off: “Now you wait for it.”
and here it is, at Toby Young’s book party.
Gawker has the whole slideshow.
Jacob wrestles with an angel. You pick who’s who.
We hate these events, these self-importantant celebrations of a crowd’s collective arrogance. But once every three or four decades, something genuinely interesting happens. In this case, at Toby Young’s book party tonight at Soho House, the crowd was treated to two writers working out their mutual hatred like twelve-year-old boys. Former Page Sixer Ian Spiegelman lost his job in 2004 ostensibly because of a threatening email he sent to [insert sketchy adjective here] writer Doug Dechert (more backstory here). Tonight, these two were reunited and, after the right amount of lukewarm liquor, they worked their issues out with fisticuffs. There’s more to explain later in the forthcoming party crash, but at this hour the pictures are story enough. More bloodshed — or the drink-throwing sissy journalist version thereof —here
and a little background on the party here, from the Huffpo. If I could find it in the debris that is Diary-X, I would post my own review of Toby Young’s first book. All you really need to know is that I used the expression “Three-orgasm Schadenfreude.“
raincoaster 
What a couple of bitchweasels.
If I had that beer bottle, it would either be broken into a jagged shard of pissed-off editor death from gut level or, if I was in a particularly sinister post-deadline mood, I’d have his ass bent over the bar while I demonstrated with the intact bottle to everyone just what Fatty Arbuckle did to kill his party date and give his movie career the kiss of death.
But that’s just me
You need to get out…less.
Somebody at Gawker commented that this is the difference between black people and white people. Black people would have hit the deck at the first sign of a bitchslapping. But then, we’re talking writers, we’re talking Preppy vs Brooklyn Jewish. We are not talking bloodshed; if anything, the Armani sustained the most damage.
Screw writers . . . I’m an editor :8^D
So that’s not so much a comment as your job description, eh?
Pretty much – foul tempered with a slew of professional tools not listed on the Columbia U. School of Journalism curriculum.
Did you know I can also cook a chicken in 1 minute with a 5 gallon can, gasoline and a pile of tinder? Or that I qualified for my scout rifle and shotgun merit badge with an SKS?
Think some writer in Armani and another in a Jersey guy shirt are gonna scare me? These two probably couldn’t cover a town council meeting.
By the way, glad you got re-electrified.
Thank you. I have been posting He-Man videos on my friends’ blogs in celebration.
An SKS? I bet you got the badge cuz they were afraid to fail you.
No, I got it because I was able to maintain consistently accurate single-shot fire with a Chinese-made piece of crap whose stock was probably made of fish-glue laminated orange crate slats.
Thjanks for reminding me – I gotta see if they’ve psoted a new Skeletor Show clip on YouTube . . . .
Editor = Skeletor fan, natch. I bet you liked the villain on G-Force, too.
Never watched G-Force. I was more of a “Bullwinkle,” “The Prisoner” and “Secret Agent” fan.
We didn’t get the Prisoner in Winterpeg, but I did like Professor Peabody and his pet boy, Sherman. I always wanted a pet boy.
Now that will get you a bit of prison time down here, not to mention what happened to Gary Glitter :8^D
Wanna pet editor instead?
Ah, married men. Same old same old.
Tis our responsibikity to be pigs. Oink oink :8^D
Are those the new vows? The only wedding I’ve been to recently featured bride-on-groom violence during the ceremony. My, how times have changed…