I first met Lindi St Clair, aka Miss Whiplash, prostitute and dominatrix to members of both Houses and the judiciary to boot - or so she claims - in the waiting-room of Greenwich Magistrates' Court. She is a pretty woman with a large presence and there was no mistaking her.
Indeed, she beckoned me energetically to come and sit beside her, then nudged over her shoulder towards a meek, round-faced man whispering urgently to his solicitor. Which way did she expect the case to go, I asked. A "slave'', Lindi explained, is a man who likes to be dominated and given orders. He will carry out tasks for his "mistress" and receives sexual favours in return.
He did all the cooking, shopping, cleaning I couldn't wish for a better slave - and good domestic help is so hard to find these days. I'm a forgiving person. If he gave. But he wouldn't, so I had to bring charges. It's nice to be on the other side for once. Last time I was in court was in Cardiff, in , when I upset the police while I was campaigning for my Corrective Pa rty.
I don't like these places. Well, not quite the last time. Two years ago the Inland Revenue pursued a claim against her for unpaid tax, but Lindi, believing they would never press it because that would be tantamount to admitting that she lived on immoral earnings, never paid.
Lindi did not have the assets to meet their claim and in she was declared bankrupt. Despite this, she remains a cheerful exhibitionist who laughs easily and often. She is sad that people accuse her of lying, for she considers herself extremely truthful, although she often contradicts herself - one minute she'll say she is a forgiving person, the next she will rejoice in her revenge against a former girlfriend. Once she lived in a big house in Earl's Court, furnished at Harrods. Now her home is in a poky little terrace in a drab suburban road though it is on a direct bus route to Westminster near Blackheath Park.
