What can I say? I was wrong. It happens sometimes, and when it does, I admit it. In an exclusive interview with the Sunday Times, Saint Paula of Privilege has finally revealed her true reason for sending her son Toby to a failing state school when she could easily have afforded to send him to an excellent private one. (Toby is mentioned by name in the feature, incidentally, and his photograph also appears; let’s hope the boy has no yen for privacy.)

It seems that Paula wasn’t, as I once suggested, motivated by the desire to score political points for a rotten cause at the expense of her only child’s welfare and future. Nor was her decision, as I later playfully posited, a passive aggressive one-in-the-eye for her aristocratic Tory parents who sent her, our very own Paula of the Proles, to an exclusive all-girls boarding school where she suffered the torment of receiving a world-class education. No, gentlest reader, none of the above. Our Paula sent young Toby to Gorse Edge School because she was having an illicit affair with its deputy head, Harry Bowers.

I’m sure Bowers and his wife, Julie, would rather you and I didn’t know this, but, thanks to Saint Paula’s obsessive desire to prove me wrong, we do. We and all the other Sunday Times readers, and all their friends and families, have the full story, in Paula Privilege’s own words. I particularly like the parts that refer to me specifically. I get no fewer than four mentions, which proves that I am currently the person uppermost in Saint Paula’s mind. I pity poor Mr. Privilege. How’s he coping with all this media attention? By “poor,” I of course mean unfortunate; last time I looked, Richard Crumlish was just about managing to scrape by on his heir-to-colossal-diamond-fortune private income.

Still, a vast fortune is no substitute for a faithful wife, one could argue, and this isn’t the first time that Saint Paula’s adulterous exploits have spilled over into the public sphere. Remember Keiran Holland? I try not to, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Remember the mediocre American movie director whose name I have forgotten? Both Crumlish and Labour let those two indiscretions pass, and no doubt for the same reason: hotties like Paula are few and far between. Will Crumlish stand by his woman again, now that she has cheated on him a third time and freely shared the full details of her betrayal with a national newspaper? It’s early days, and, while we remain glued to every facet of their unfolding marital misfortune, we can only speculate: will it be stick or carats for Saint Paula?