I know it’s morbid to be following the grief of others, but there’s something I can’t resist about recent revelations of the character of Charles Saatchi. First of all, his explanation of why he didn’t examine a statement from his financial adviser: “It’s not that I’m rich. It’s just that I’d rather not look at a piece of paper with money written on it. It’s not what I do.” And then, after he’s suggested that the famous restaurant throttling scene was to do with Nigella’s drug habit, she provides an alternative explanation. she’d been rash enough to say she was looking forward to being a grandmother, whereupon “He grabbed me by the throat and said ‘I am the only person you should be concerned with. I am the only person who should be giving you pleasure.’ ” Not nice, but it’s hard to pull yourself away.