WE HAD TO GIVE HIP AND BRA SIZES
Hostess girl tells of the demands made by party boss
THE property tycoon behind the scandal-hit men-only charity dinner demanded ‘tall, thin beauties’ with ‘smoky, sexy eyes and bright red lips’ to work as hostesses, a former worker claimed last night.
Tory donor Bruce Ritchie, co-trustee of the now-defunct Presidents Club, was said to have vetoed women larger than a size ten for the Dorchester Hotel event.
Potential hostesses had to provide bust, waist and hip measurements as well as fulllength photos. The revelation came as:
MPs urged police to investigate ‘potentially criminal’ behaviour, including pimping and sexual assault of the 140 women working at last Thursday’s event;
Theresa May said she was ‘frankly appalled’ by the allegations of groping, saying: ‘Women are not just objects to be used by men;’
Mrs May called for a review of gagging orders hostesses had signed that prevent them from openly speaking of alleged abuse;
Downing Street urged anyone who had been sexually harassed to report the crime to the police;
One hostess said Mr Ritchie had put his hands around her waist, calling him ‘sleazy’ and ‘handsy’;
Guests insisted it was no ‘Roman orgy’ and the hostesses all ‘knew what they were doing’.
A woman who previously worked for Artista, the firm that provided the hostesses, laid bare the ‘horrific’ culture at the agency.
Speaking on condition of anonymity, she said Artista boss Caroline Dandridge ‘would always talk about Bruce Ritchie. He kept her in business.’ She said that Miss Dandridge, 55, would meet the millionaire ahead of the dinners so he could ‘remind her’ what he wanted from the hostesses, and twice the number of women required were put forward as Mr Ritchie was so selective.
The woman said: ‘[Miss Dandridge] would go and look for more girls and present him with the pictures. He would say, “Yes,” “No”... All the girls are young, lovely hair, skin.’
Mr Ritchie, 52, who owns Mayfair-based property firm Residential Land, had strict size and height requirements, the source said, adding: ‘It had to be a six, eight or ten. Smoky, sexy eyes and bright red lips. [Miss Dandridge] would say, “That’s what he wants.”’
Those selected were expected to wear bright red lipstick and ‘heavy eye make-up’, she said. ‘She was so rude to the girls, she would say things like, “She looks like a horse.” These girls had to be stunners.’
In emails, Miss Dandridge said Mr Ritchie preferred women to be: ‘Ideally 5ft 6in and over (he would prefer 5ft 8in and over!). He loves tall and thin as you know.’
In another email seen by the Daily Mail, Miss Dandridge told of how Mr Ritchie had turned down some of the women she put forward. Artista has provided models and hostesses for events such as the Ascot races and firms including Bentley, Barclays and The Economist magazine.
Before the Presidents Club events, Miss Dandridge allegedly admitted to staff: ‘Some of the girls will be my girls and some will be prostitutes.’ The ex-employee said that, at a Presidents Club din- ner several years ago, a hostess aged 18 began sobbing after a guest touched her inappropriately, only to be allegedly told by Miss Dandridge to ‘go home or stay and enjoy yourself’.
A 28-year-old who worked at this year’s event said she had been propositioned, asked if she was a prostitute and had her bottom pinched. She said: ‘I thought this is so wrong, it’s seedy.’ Asked who stood out, she said: ‘Bruce Ritchie. He had girls sitting on his lap.
‘He’s one of the founders and I just didn’t like the way that he was. He grabbed me at one point. He grabbed and pushed me a bit in a weird way. He had his hands [around my waist] a bit too long and then pushed me to get me out of the way. He was very handsy, very sleazy...’
The hostess, from London, said the way he had touched her was ‘quite sexual’, and she claimed to have seen prostitutes, all wearing red dresses, at the after-party. The woman said she was told at interview by Miss Dandridge that pictures of her ‘would go to the main guy’. Scotland Yard said it was yet to receive any criminal allegations, but Lib Dem leader Sir Vince Cable and his deputy Miss Swinson asked the force to investigate, while Labour MP Jess Phillips also said she was contacting police.
Children and families minister Nadhim Zahawi was given a ‘dressing down’ by Chief Whip Julian Smith yesterday for going to the dinner. Mrs May told BBC News: ‘I thought that that sort of approach to women, that objectification of women, was something that we were leaving behind.’
A businessman who went denied it had been a ‘Roman orgy’ and insisted there was nothing ‘sinister’, though some guests may have ‘behaved in a handsy way’.
A real estate industry figure who attended told the Financial Times: ‘These are not underage girls, they are all over 18, they know what they are doing. The people who go, we can afford a girl if we want one.’
Ascot said it did not use Artista directly, but the firm had occasionally been used by third-party bookers. Bentley said it last worked with Artista in 2011, while it is understood The Economist has not since 2008. Barclays declined to comment. Mr Ritchie was approached for comment. Mrs Dandridge did not respond to requests for comment.
‘He was very handsy’
Yes, yes, oh my God. I am outraged at the sleazeball Presidents Club bash at the Dorchester Hotel. I am appalled by this gropers’ gala, this fiesta of hot paw fumble where captains of industry and their sweating underlings palpitated with lust, bow-ties akimbo, as they were welcomed by pretty young hostesses at the hotel door.
I suppose one must be glad the Club has closed down, despite raising more than £20 million for charity over the years, and that no one will ever again be humiliated by a David Walliams after- dinner joke, an underdone 34-day-old fillet steak, or a pathetic creep who is big in the insurance business insisting on holding your hand as he eats his pudding. But can I say something? I wasn’t that outraged. I wasn’t that shocked. I don’t think that Great Ormond street Hospital should have sent their money back in a fit of high-profile pique.
self-righteousness versus a new kidney machine for the kiddies? It’s a no- contest. I don’t think for one second that all the men behaved badly, although you can bet that some of the dopes did.
I find it sad that this kind of retrograde, men-only gallivanting for City types is still going on — in 2018! — but while I think it regrettable, I didn’t think it was that terrible.
Come on. Certainly not as terrible as Jess Phillips MP, who was practically oscillating with rage as she talked of young women ‘bought as bait for rich men’.
Not as bad as London mayor sadiq Khan and Commons speaker John Bercow, the Pinky and ever-so-Perky puppets of fashionable outrage, quick on the double draw to get their squeaky voices heard on the latest scandale du jour. Mr
BerCOW feels the issue is ‘a matter of the utmost importance’ while Mr Khan is ‘utterly appalled by the behaviour’.
One might have hoped the London mayor would be rather more appalled by the huge rises in knife crime, killings and robberies on the Capital’s streets, but there you go. However, it was a bad business. There is no excuse for the unedifying spectacle of grown men who should know better being boorish in the presence of pretty young girls.
Yet I can’t quite agree with the heart-rending depiction of these 130 hostesses as poor little sexCinderellas adrift in a swamp of victimalia, forced at the point of a nail file into skimpy dresses, matching underwear and high heels.
Then made to sign non-disclosure agreements and have their phones removed. Most of those commentators and politicians who have been shrieking the loudest will certainly have been to celebrity parties, to theatre first-night celebrations or film premieres and the like where it is normal for hospitality and waiting staff to undergo the same strictures, give or take the black knickers.
As the Presidents Club hostesses were required to be ‘tall, thin and pretty’, presumably they understood and accepted that they had been hired for their looks — and the nature of the men-only event. Bawdy, one supposes, but not criminal.
The girls were paid £150 for a sixhour shift, plus £25 for a taxi home — pretty good money, considering that the minimum wage is around £7 per hour, depending on age.
Plainer waitresses who toil unnoticed in the Dorchester banqueting suites and restaurants could expect a much more punishing or back-breaking shift for a third of the money, followed by a trip home on late-night public transport.
Of course, no amount of money in the world could ever justify a man touching a woman against her will, but a sense of perspective here wouldn’t go amiss, if only to dampen down the rising hysteria.
The police are being asked to investigate, even if, at time of writing, no one has complained of any crime being committed. somebody said that somebody said that a man had exposed himself — awful, if true. Bottoms were pinched. Idiots were idiots until they got drunk, when they become even more idiotic in time-honoured tradition.
One commentator shrieked that it sent a message to ‘rich, entitled men’ that they were ‘not going to get away with it any more’. Get away with what, exactly? some are reacting as if the hostesses were girlish innocents abducted by Boko Haram, sold into white slavery or worse, instead of sentient adults who made an informed decision about the nature of the evening and got out just about unscathed, with money in their purses.
Theresa May says there is a lot more work to be done to combat the objectification of women — and she is right. However, there is one thing that no regulation or piece of legislation can ever, ever change.
And that is the happy belief of ageing, mottled, pot-bellied, combover multi-millionaire men that they are somehow irresistibly attractive to beautiful young women. some of these women are good at dealing with this conviction while using it to their own advantage, and God bless them every one. some women are not and should steer clear.
In the name of charity, there is no excuse for the worst of the Presidents Clubbers’ behaviour, but let’s all get a grip. Figuratively speaking.