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Saturday 22 November 2008

Good guys, bad guys

Taki lives the High Life 

An interesting week, to say the least. A Carlton Club speech on multiculturalism which didn’t quite come off, a kidnapping in Gstaad, a party in London to celebrate David Tang’s knighthood, the mugging of John McCain by the man who committed adultery with Emma Gilbey, a great Pug’s club lunch at our new premises, and the addition of two more members to the world’s most exclusive club. Let’s start with the kidnapping, a first for Gstaad.

The American lady who was grabbed outside the Palace hotel in broad daylight is married to a Greek close friend of mine who bought Asprey’s last year. He deals in private equity and they were coming to my house for dinner that evening. She was grabbed by three hooded men, bundled into a car 50 yards from the hotel and forced to lie on the floor while it sped away. After 15 minutes, she was almost thrown out of the speeding car having first surrendered her large diamond ring and assorted baubles. She made her way back with the help of a friendly farmer and spent the best part of the evening being interviewed by the fuzz. Like English cops, the local gendarmes know how to give parking tickets in a jiffy but catching the bad guys is not their specialty. A burnt-out car was found five days later somewhere in the Canton de Vaud, but that’s as close as they got to solving the crime.

Personally, I was convinced at first that the perpetrators were Russian oligarchs, who since becoming multibillionaires had missed stealing and the thrill of being chased by cops, but it seems the bad guys spoke French, a language as foreign to oligarchs as the concept of fair play. My friends are now back in the Big Bagel, their Gstaad holiday ruined by the resort’s attraction for nouveaux-riches, vulgar celebrity wannabees and criminal elements, all fuelled by local greed which cannot resist a buck, no matter where that buck comes from.

My Carlton Club dinner speech on multiculturalism also ran into trouble. The name of it was Ann Widdecombe. She spoke first and said everything that had to be said, leaving me stranded at the post. There’s nothing one can do in such situations — no use repeating what she had just stated and very articulately at that — so I made a few jokes at which no one laughed, stuttered a bit, complimented Ann on having remained a virgin, and sat down to a thunderous silence. Oh well, my friend Sergei Cristo, the organiser, did not think it too bad, but then Sergei thinks Lincoln’s visit to the Ford theatre was also a success.

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