High life
An eye for a fingernail
Taki
orality is a strange thing. At times it is like beauty, in the eye of the beholder. There are millions of Americans who pay good money to see Jane Fonda films, forgetting that once upon a time she expressed support for her country's ene- mies. Others, closer to home, socialised with Anthony Blunt, and defended him even after his exposure. Worse yet, there are those who remain in the same room with Republican sympathisers like Jeremy Corbyn.
Libel laws prevent me from saying what I really think, but I think very little of a pop star like Paul McCartney or the actor Richard Harris, two bums who should hide their heads in shame after the latest out- rage against a brave and civilised man like Ian Gow. But think of them, dear readers, the next time you are about to shell out your moolah to see those trained seals perform.
Personally I believe in an eye for a fingernail where cowards such as the IRA are concerned, but I belong to a very small minority. The Brits seem to have lost their warrior qualities, and are more concerned nowadays with being outraged over the revelations of the banalities uttered by a 90-year-old lady.
Needless to say, it all has to do with guts. The IRA lacks them, and thus goes about blowing up defenceless people. The British Government ditto, because it won't change a losing game and blow up all known IRA sympathisers. But lack of guts is the norm, not the exception. One who has plenty is Ashraf Pahlevi, the twin sister of the last Shah of Iran. Last week she took out an ad in the Paris Herald Tribune — which in reality should be called the Tel Aviv Herald — praising her brother's rule, and giving her signature and her address, 12 Avenue Montaigne. By a strange coincidence I used to live in that same building during the Sixties. I knew Ashraf, but stayed away. She had a roving eye for young men, and back then I was young. Although in debt because of my gambling, I was never that desperate.
Someone who became a friend of hers was Parris Radji, ambassador of the Shah in London. On the day the Shah fled from Teheran I happened to be in the Big Bagel and ran into Parvis. He was with Marion Javitts, wife of a Bagel senator. Parvis was appointed to London partly because of his friendship with Ashraf, but on that particu- lar day he appeared to be distancing himself from the regime as quickly as rich Iranians were fleeing the country. I was outraged and said so. I might have sounded like a Neanderthal, but better a Neander- thal any day than a yellow-bellied coward, say I, a sworn enemy of the Shah while the weak man was in power.
Another brave man is Vaclav Havel, who dared Zionist wrath by going to
Salzburg last week. The lachrymose and ludicrous Abe Rosenthal immediately attacked him in the Big Bagel Times, but an attack by Abe is the greatest of compli- ments. Waldheim is and was a fraud and a coward, as well as a liar, but he was no war criminal. To his credit, Lord Weidenfeld, a man who makes Shamir seem an anti- Semite by comparison, has defended Waldheim. Most Western leaders, howev- er, are too scared of the wrath of Abe and stay away. Including my favourite, Mrs T.
And speaking of Mrs Thatcher, she is being taunted by fools and cowards of the Left that she's rewarding old chums like Lord Hanson. If only Britain and Europe had more Hansons and Whites and less Corbyns, Blunts and McCartneys, Ian Gow's death might not have been in vain.
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