Nadhim Zahawi’s latest resignation letter was one of the all-time classics of the genre: unctuous, preening and pretentious even by the high standard of unctuousness, preeningness and pretentiousness set by his predecessors (including him).
‘Greatest honour of my life,’ he wrote. ‘Best country on earth…it was where I built a Great [capitalisation sic] British business, YouGov, and it was where I raised my wonderful family. And it was the nation to which I was proud to return such a favour when I led the world-leading coronavirus vaccine roll-out […] called upon to serve my country […] I kept schools open […] I ensured […] I was given the unique responsibility…’ On he burbled. And to demonstrate what a classy fellow he is, he even showily quoted his ‘most famous constituent’ – William Shakespeare – not once but twice.
Most of us, in turn, responded to this effusion of misty-eyed patriotism and candid self-love with: ‘Tax blunderer said what?’
Nothing, after all, shows your selfless devotion to your country and your countrymen like paying nearly £5 million in missing taxes and penalties after making a ‘careless mistake’, trying to bully reporters legitimately investigating the matter with legal letters, and getting the taxpayer to fork out to heat your private stables.
Now the plucky little lad from Baghdad enters on a new stage in his journey with destiny. He has signed up to be chair (non-executive: he has higher things to be getting on with) of Very Group, the retail group which is the largest remaining bastion of the Barclay family business empire. The Barclays: remember them? Got in some trouble with the bank, had to sell a bunch of assets (including, hem hem, this magazine), and climbed into bed with the Emiratis in the hope of pulling their fat out of the fire.
Very Group has recently taken on £125 million of debt from Carlyle Credit and International Media Investments, which is owned by UAE vice-president Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al-Nahyan. Even before this, our Nadhim was playing middleman between the Barclays and Emiratis in the hopes of effectively putting The Spectator and the Telegraph under the control of a foreign autocracy. That was thwarted when Parliament woke up to the idea that press freedom wasn’t best served by any foreign ownership, still less that foreign ownership, so now Zahawi is cashing in with a cushy number in retail. ‘If money goes before,’ as his most famous constituent had it, ‘all ways do lie open.’
Why is it, I wonder, that the image that comes to mind when I think of Zahawi is not one of a noble patriot so much as a backstreet spiv opening his trenchcoat to offer passers-by some flitches of green bacon and a selection of hooky pocketwatches?
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