High life
If I ruled the world
Taki
omeone once wrote, and very correct- ly indeed, that the most important factor for a man who has enough money to do as he pleases is the will to resist taking the time to make more. Amen. While the stock market is plunging almost as quickly as the reputation of Saddam — at least where many haves are concerned — I have remained as cool as President Bush, con- tinuing with my tennis, karate and daily mountain climbs. My only regret is not having come here all the summers I wasted on the Riviera and on the Olive islands.
Mind you, there have been some warn-
ing clouds of late. They come in the shape of rich `Ayrabs' from the Gulf, dressed appropriately, thank God, but still not a pretty sight in the mountains. All this week I've run into them in the lobby of the Palace, and — amazingly — on the tennis courts. It seems Mohammed Junior likes tennis, and all the pros of the hotel have been recruited so the little pests can try and play McEnroe of a Thousand and One Nights.
Needless to say Junior and Miss Moham- med dress like tennis players, but the similarity ends there. The little ones are spoilt, and never but never do they return balls that trickle on to their court, nor do they — God forbid — ever wait for a point to finish before crossing a poorer man's territory. They are accompanied by dumb minders, mostly Frenchmen, and nannies who hover in the background and giggle non-stop.
While in the middle of a ferociously fought doubles match early this week, I went back for an overhead and ran into one of these tiny towelheads nonchalantly crossing my court as if it was the Saudi desert. I of course lost my temper, looked up at the sky, and prayed that Saddam would teach these plutobrats some man- ners. I did it in a loud voice, and it wasn't one of my most intelligent outbursts. Nevertheless I was surprised by the lack of reaction on the part of the Rolls and Bentley brigade. Our rich Arab brothers are scared right now, so scared in fact they've even given up the time-honoured rich Arab practice of having minders beat up people they don't agree with.
Which brings me to the point I wish to make. Even in Gstaad, a place where money shouts, there are those who are wondering whether Uncle Sam is doing the right thing. By this I mean whether we in the West should help our 'friends' the sheikhs repel the butcher in order that they can continue to blackmail us with expen- sive oil. Because, let's face it, the free market price for a barrel of oil is ten dollars, but our friends had it up to 22 in order to keep up the ghastly style they've been accustomed to. So, now is the time that we should tell our buddies that enough is enough. No more cartel to blackmail the West, no more $18 billion personal for- tunes abroad, no more pay-offs for protec- tion. At the same time, we order our other friend, Israel, to stop shooting children, to turn over the West Bank, and to stop the Jewish lobby from targeting politicians who happen to disagree with Israeli plans for expansion. It is all very simple.
The trouble is, of course, I am not as yet running the State Department, and the way the market is going I will not be able to purchase it this year. But what the hell. If the Queen can award the Royal Victorian Chain to Princess Margaret for 60 years of freeloading, I just might be called in and asked to run things for a while in Foggy Bottom. Stranger things have happened.
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