24 NOVEMBER 1990, Page 56

High life

Follow my leader


It has been a disastrous week. First of all the Heseltines of this world ignore John Public and attempt to oust a sitting Prime Minister, one they should be bowing and scraping to for having rescued them from their mediocrity, not to mention three elections. Then my friend Bruce Anderson gets fired from the best paper in town for writing what a man who has never worked in his life and whose mum pays no taxes had to say about a man who made his pile on his own. Finally, I go to parents' day in my little girl's school in Switzerland, and I'm told by one of her teachers what a bum I am because I hate pop music. Oy veh, it's enough to make one celibate, but why take it out on the fair sex when all three disasters this week were caused by men? Let's examine each in turn.

What some of these so-called true Tories are saying is that for the party to win the next election Mrs T. has to go. 'When you know that the colonel will get you killed, you change the colonel,' was the way a duke, no less, put it. Well, the 300 Spar- tans knew that Leonidas would surely get them killed, yet not a single one of them did a Heseltine. But we live in a world so full of artifice, so empty of any emotion. such as loyalty and courage, that the norm is the Heseltine approach, not the Spartan one. However I for one am so disgusted with the lack of loyalty to Mrs T. that I am seriously thinking of moving to Prussia. I only hope she fights to the bitter end and forces them to vote her out. Then I can start contributing to the Labour Party.

The ex-sainted editor, Charles Moore, is a very honourable man. His only black mark is keeping The Spectator's High life correspondent employed after he got busted at Heathrow (Taki, not Charles). It was Charles who passed on what Prince Charles thought of Andrew Knight. Charles is no gossip, but even in England surely people have the right to respect something innocuous that a royal said and not get drawn and quartered for it. After all, here we are living in the Nineties, and people act as if those people who get paid to cut ribbons have a divine right not to pay taxes. The sad thing is that a hard-working man from a working-class background has lot his job as a result, and it makes me mad as hell. If Prince Charles was a good guy, he should pick up the telephone and tell whoever fired Bruce to unfire him. If he does I might even contribute some money to the Armand Hammer fund.

Last but not least, Mr Lunn, my daugh- ter's English teacher at L'Aiglon, the best school in Europe by far. How can an otherwise civilised man, and an English teacher to boot, like Zulu music? Zulu music is responsible for most of the vio- lence today — when was the last time you heard a Bach concerto and went out and mugged somebody? And it's so ghastly on the ears. It is as uplifting as a Warhol painting, or a visit by Princess Margaret.

But if you think the week was bad, you should have been with me last weekend. I went to Badminton to visit the Duke and Duchess of Beaufort, but got a speech from their daughter-in-law Tracy on the state of the world today. It made me miss the Big Olive and the Big Bagel rather a lot.