DIARY
DOMINIC LAWSON In 1960 Christine Keeler met Mandy Rice-Davies. Three years later they brought down the British Government.' These two sentences, the first a fact, the second a lie, are now to be seen on hoardings throughout the land, to sell a film called Scandal, which purports to tell the 'real' story of the Profumo affair. Last week a Channel 4 `documentary', 'He would say that, wouldn't he?', endorsed the big lie by cleverly showing a newspaper cutting proclaiming 'Macmillan resigns' and following it immediately, without com- ment, with another cutting: 'Wilson is Prime Minister.' I am not suggesting that the copywriter's slogan should have been: In 1960 Christine Keeler met Mandy Rice-Davies. Four years later, Sir Alec Douglas-Home, who became Prime Minis- ter after Harold Macmillan resigned as a result of ill-health, lost a general election he was obliged to call because the Govern- ment had reached the end of its allotted five-year span.' Catchy, it isn't. But I do think that if any story does not require mendacious hype to titillate the public interest, it is the Profumo affair.
Afew years ago, Lord Stockton (you know, the man who resigned in disgrace over the antics of a film producer and a couple of actresses) regained some of the attention he so coveted, by making a speech attacking the Government's priva- tisation policy, and comparing it to 'selling the family silver'. It was a mischievous and foolish speech. But in an extraordinary way the old poser was on to something after all. I have discovered that there is a connection between privatisation and the family silver, and it is this: many people have pawned silver and other jewellery in order to pay for second and third instal- ments of privatisation share issues. They had the money for the down-payment, it seems, but hadn't bargained for the full cost of holding on to their shares in British This, British That, or British The Other plc. I was told this by Mr Philip Murphy, who is chairman of Britain's second biggest chain of pawnbrokers, Albermarle & Bond. But why, I asked Mr Murphy, do the poor punters not sell the shares, when confronted with the letter from the spon- soring bank demanding payment and thre- atening cancellation of the stock? He explained that these customers of his have no idea of how to sell shares, whereas to hold on to the stock required just a cheque In the post to the bank.., and the tempor- ary loss of the family silver.
These days even the pawnbrokers see themselves as much a part of the thrusting new Britain as the privatisations off which they prosper. They are both, after all, components of the financial services indus- try. It is in tune with the image that Mr Murphy has called his company `Alber- marle & Bond'. —Murphy's Pawnbrokers" just does not have that "je ne sais quoi" he told me. But for upmarket credentials Murphy still has a long way to go before he can compete with the head of the biggest chain of pawnbrokers, Harvey & Thomp- son. Mr Rupert Galliers-Pratt is an old Etonian, and a member of the exceedingly wealthy Cayzer family. When I met the amiable Galliers-Pratt last week, just after he had returned from a skiing holiday with his family in Gstaad, one question above all troubled me. Which was wider, the unlit cigar in his hand, or the bright red braces holding up his trousers? Mr Galliers-Pratt's smile disappeared only when I described his pawnbroking operations as not even secondary banking, but tertiary banking at best. 'We are a proper little retail bank, with other little bits added on,' Galliers- Pratt admonished me charmingly. Inciden- tally Mr Galliers-Pratt's rates are not so much worse than those of the banks. He charges four per cent a month, they charge about 2.5 per cent a month for credit-card debt. And now the big four banks are considering charging people even for the possession of one of their credit cards. It will probably be about £10 a year. When I rang Barclays, the leaders in this market, they told me that the contemplation of a charge 'has nothing to do with the fact that more people are paying their bills on time, and not paying any interest'. The spokes- man was also adamant that the idea of charging for credit cards, was not, repeat not, a ruse to replace the revenues that will be lost now that the banks have been forced by the building societies to intro- duce interest-bearing current accounts. He added that any introduction of charges for credit cards would 'reflect the enormous competitiveness of the credit card market'. I think I prefer the pawnbrokers myself. I can understand what they say.
In 1965 (two years after Mr Wilson won the famous Profumo Election of '63, re- member) the British Government gave Norway rights to about half of our oil and gas reserves. I was reminded of this genuine but never reported — scandal last week, when the Financial Times splashed with an exclusive story headed `UK and Norwegian oil partners in $bn row over North Sea field'. The Statfjord oilfield, the biggest in the North Sea, straddles the median line between Britain and Norway, and the British and Norwegian partners in the field are having one of their perennial rows about who owns what. According to the FT, if the Norwegian claim is upheld it will cost the British Government about £1 billion in lost Petroleum Revenue Tax. The companies are arguing over percentages. But I say it is all ours, every drop, and more besides. We were badly let down in 1965 when the British Government agreed to Norwegian demands that the median line in the North Sea should be exactly equidistant from the two coastlines. The discussions were based on the 1958 Geneva Convention on the Continental Shelf, which set down guidelines for assessing national mineral claims. Article 1 of the Convention states, 'For the purpose of these articles, the term Continental Shelf is used as referring to the sea bed and subsoil of the submarine areas adjacent to the coast outside the area of the territorial sea, to a depth of 200 metres.' And as every geologist knows, the UK continental shelf goes on for ever, while Norway resembles nothing so much as a table on its side. Surrounded by a trench, it has no continen- tal shelf to speak of. We were had. by the Norwegians, who subsequently found so much of our oil that they became known as the tlue-eyed sheikhs'. Not surprisingly the British Government is still very sensi- tive on this little known but horrifically costly gaffe, admittedly made at about the same time as the head of BP said that he would 'drink all the oil found in the North Sea'. Even last week the Department of Energy refused to discuss the matter. It wouldn't do to upset the Norwegians.
There are three things that make for a great meal out. Good food, good com- pany, and overhearing strange personal details from a conversation at an adjoining table. I offer this crumb from the rich woman's table, said by one befurred lady to another at the expensive Kingfisher restaurant in the Halcyon Hotel, Holland Park: 'You've got a private jet! And you're claiming dole?'
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