Right about Tiny
THERE IS something about Tiny Rowland of Lonrho that reminds me of Napoleon, the pig in Animal Farm. (Paul Spicer, his master's voice, could pass for Squealer.) It is not just Mr Rowland's imperious style or his ferocity in combat but the facility of his right-about turns, transforming foe into friend and, even more predictably, friend into foe. The Fayeds are now experiencing this process for a second time, and Dieter Bock has just started. They could note what happened to Sir Hugh Fraser, Alan Bond, Sir Angus Ogilvy, Francesca Pollard — she wrote scurrilous pamphlets about Mr Row- land, was converted and wrote about the Fayeds, and must now wonder which way to turn — and some pearl fishermen in Kuwait who were to be Lonrho's great new friends, just like Mr Bock, until they disap-
peared into oblivion. All this used to worry the Board of Trade's nannies, who hoped to find out what Master Tiny was doing and tell him to stop it, or, failing that, to stop him first and find out afterwards. It led them to think that if Tiny was in the wrong, his enemies must be right — until the ',next turnabout left everyone standing. I cannot think that the latest one need worry any- one, except for Lonrho's sheepish share- holders, who have always been content across the years to bleat the party line.
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