High life
Newsworthy
Taki
Ihave always thought highly of Nicholas Fairbairn, the Conservative MP for Kinross and West Perthshire, especially when I read that he was quite a ladies' man. You may remember that his secretary tried to hang herself because he refused to play house with her. Fortunately, and predict- ably, she failed, but it proved to me that he was a man to reckon with. Just imagine a member of the fairer sex trying to bump herself off for, say, Eric Heffer, just to give you an example. As old Sam Goldwyn would have said, 'In two words, im possible.' Yet Fairbairn wrote a harmless little spread in the Times last Saturday that had I not read his byline I would have been positive was written by one of those faceless and ghastly types who fail to protect the royals except to scream after the purple- blooded ones have made fools of themselves. His piece had to do with the public's need to know, a phrase that is becoming as corny as Kansas in August. In brief, here is what the honourable member said: that it is time for the press and media to stop hounding those in public life; that scandal adds nothing to the integrity of our institutions except that it's good copy; that, assuming an absolute truth is published, the public is not necessarily entitled to know; that the probity of a public figure's private life makes no difference to his performance of his public duty.
Ironically, I agree with the last point. Gamblers, whoremongers, drinkers and dopers have throughout history been some of our greatest leaders. His other points I am not so sure about. When he says that it is remarkable that during the permissive age the press comment on the private lives of Prince Andrew and you-know-Koo con- tained a tone of moral disapproval, he is wrong. The ones who disapproved were sanctimonious nitwits like those who write for the Guardian, and people like Frank Giles. The rest thought it was quite funny. After all, if a not-so-bright royal romances a soft-porn star it is very amusing. More so than reading how Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands has the common touch (why shouldn't she? She's one of the most
common-looking women I've seen in a long time).
Let's face it. People in the public eye choose to be in it, and even royals can get out of it any moment they choose by refus- ing public money and changing their name. And if newspapers don't write about people in the public eye, whom in heaven's name are they going to write about? Sebastian Taylor, a man unknown until I jokingly, and amiably called him a con man a couple of weeks ago?
Lord Northcliffe once said that news is what someone doesn't want known, and that everything else is publicity. The good lord might have had trouble with Hungary but he did get that right. Even one of the greatest Greek writers of all time, Taki, has suffered uncomplainingly from gossip. If he hadn't become the greatest Greek since Homer, where literature is concerned, scan- dal mongers wouldn't libel him as out- rageously as they do. Everyone loves reading gossip, however untrue, until it is their turn. Then we all become a bit like the Aga Khan and Jackie Onassis, two of the greatest phonies I have the bad luck to know. Nicholas Fairbairn also contradicts himself. He admits that the people who ruled us long ago, and whose lives and sex- ual peccadillos were common knowledge, were much better. The reason we knew about their numerous mistresses and lovers is simply because people like Saint Simon and other diarists were allowed to mix with them and record their — for lack of a better word — erections.
Which brings me to the problem of the diarists. Most of them, and I am talking about contemporary ones, don't know any of the people they are writing about. Demp- ster is an exception, but most of his infor- mation comes from informers. The gutter press simply makes it up. And why not? I really couldn't give a damn what the royals are like as long as they don't disrupt traffic when I'm late delivering my copy. The only thing I want to know about people who are leading us is whether they are yellow or not. Mrs Thatcher is not, and one doesn't need to know any more than that.
And here is another world exclusive in defence of gossip. It seems that Leopoldo Galtieri, an otherwise good man, read in one of those Buenos Aires semi-glossy magazines, that Mrs Thatcher was in fact terrified of Denis and that he was boss. I have it from an impeachable source that he said the following: 'Let's grab Las Malvinas, Margharita will never be allowed to fight by Denis. He's a businessman and wants no trouble.' Well, we all know the rest. If Leopoldo had read a column of mine back in 1979 which revealed that she did have something Callaghan lacked he'd still be residing at the Casa Rosada.
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