Afternoon:
10°c
Scandals usually divide between sex and money. The Chelsea footballer John Terry, that great unifier of men, has managed both. The Arsenal fans at Stamford Bridge on Sunday may have been singing to the tune of Lord of the Dance, “Chelsea, wherever you may be, don't leave your wife with John Terry” but it was the debts which did for the Chelsea captain.
Some of the money went on covering up the sex, the biggest waste going to the lawyers, Schillings. Had Vanessa Perroncel had her say, there would have been no whirlpool of sympathy of her. This is a woman who reportedly chose to make her mark in England because there were other pretty women to compete with in France. The slur on our wags must not go unanswered.
Other money may have been blown on gambling or marketing schemes. The astonishing truth seems to be that Terry's £170,000-a-week wage is not enough to satisfy family, friends, mistresses and boredom. He has spent more time trying to sort out his mortgages than even Peter Mandelson.
A friend of mine phoned me last week with the prettiest sigh and told me her troubled tale. A stranger had offered her £5 million for her modest Notting Hill house. The squeeze on housing supply is producing lottery outcomes. Her question was this: if she took the money, would her character change? What would happen to her work ethic and down-to-earth values if she had millions of pounds in the bank?
After I had overcome my base impulse to hurl the phone at the wall, I saw her point. Would my educated friend end up like the News of the World lotto lout, back on the dole after spending £200k on hookers, £200k on bling and — note who always benefits from parables of our time — £55k on lawyers.
Perhaps Terry's interest in the effects of money was as philosophical as my friend's. This may have been the substance of his 12-minute secret meeting with Fabio Capello, the England manager. Maybe the two men fought over Marx and Adam Smith. Probably Capello quoted Benjamin Franklin, “Wealth is not his that has it but his that enjoys it,” to which Terry might playfully have responded with Plato, “The greatest wealth is to live content with little.”
Whatever passed between them, it did not dent Terry's spirit on the pitch. If he has money as well as sex on his mind, it makes Capello's decision to ditch him as England captain all the more wrong. It takes an English lionheart to play despite the turmoil. The Chelsea fans were being patriotic as well as self-interested in their chants against Arsenal. As the Arsenal crowds taunted Terry with “you're not captain any more”, Chelsea fans roared back at the mostly foreign players for the other side “you're not English any more”. So Capello has turned Terry from adulterous scumbag to English martyr.
Our luvvies are just lovable
Maybe it was the peculiarity and intimacy of an event held in the old County Hall debating chamber but the Evening Standard film awards last night was an affectionate affair. A rogue step at the podium which toppled a succession of actresses, a good turnout of comedy actors and writers and a dose of freezing weather outside somehow united the room. The most loveable of the stars was the pregnant winning actress Anne-Marie Duff, who thanked her husband James McAvoy. Duff has the most mobile and luminous face I have ever seen and pregnancy makes it even more so. She and her scruffy, adoring husband are an antidote to the polished hauteur of the happily married after all Brad and Angelina.
Beware the tracks of some tears
Public tears are momentarily affecting but one has to be strict about the cause. Alastair Campbell is, I think, right that the critics of the Iraq War are not interested in Tony Blair's arguments since they have already made up their minds that he is a war criminal. But that is not why Campbell caught his breath on Sunday's Andrew Marr show. He appealed against vilification, saying that Marr had compared his novel, Maya, to the intelligence dossier, “and it's all fiction and all the rest of it”. It sounded dangerously as if Campbell was complaining about a book review.
In the same way I feel uneasy to read that Gordon Brown broke down on the Piers Morgan show, while talking about his daughter Jennifer who died. I do not doubt the sincerity of Brown's grief but the fact that the interview was rehearsed by Campbell and set up with Morgan suggests a tabloid collusion.
In this context, what Brown is really crying about is a bottomless, Gollum- like longing to hang onto his job. I preferred William Hague's dry-eyed response to Alastair Campbell's tears, that what was really upsetting was the fact that our soldiers were sent into war without proper equipment. The Queen's discreet tear at Remembrance Day for the sacrifice of others is the proper show of public sorrow.
A triumph for local heroes
Last Friday night, I went to watch my nephew's band, The Road, at the Half Moon pub in Putney. The Half Moon was famous for hosting acts such as the Rolling Stones and U2 but earlier this year was set to close and be turned into a gastropub. A Facebook petition prevailed and it is now saved. It is a wonderful thing to see localism in action.
