DIARY IAN HISLOP
You can't keep a bad man down. There are now plans to stage a musical about Robert Maxwell in the West End and the producers are looking for someone to play him. Names such as Mel Smith and Robbie Coltrane are being suggested, but this is hardly very imaginative casting. I would go for Arnold Schwarzenegger myself. The action-hero-turned-hamburger-salesman has just been in this country, and every time he gave an interview it struck me how good he would be in the Maxwell role. Arnie's combination of ruthlessness and humour- lessness is ideal, and his leaden attempts at buffoonery are exactly in the style of the late Captain Bob. When you add in the constant sense of threat lurking behind any conversation, you have an almost perfect match of subject and actor (all right then, star). Arnie's accent is almost right as it is and he would have to do very little in the way of psychological preparation. The immigrant background, the self-made struggle, the financial empire, the interest in politics (rightish for Arnie, leftish for Bob) are all there already. I hope the pro- ducers have got the sense to see this because it could be a huge success. The scene where Arnie/Bob strides into the Mirror building and shouts Wasta la vista, pension-scheme' before bursting into song might be one of the great moments of musical theatre.
Maxwell was something of an actor himself. In the celebrated court case against Private Eye his performance in the witness box was sufficiently powerful to win him large libel damages from the jury. I always believed that the case hinged not on any of the financial evidence (or lack of it), but on the question of the `Lookalikes'. This is a feature in Private Eye that points out famous people who look like each other. On one occasion, it was suggested that Maxwell looked like the more hand- some Kray twin. Unsurprisingly, Maxwell's barrister brought this to the attention of the court, but he then continued with vari- ous other Tookalikes' including the Duke of Edinburgh and Adolf Eichmann. No jokes are ever very funny when they reap- pear in a courtroom (though everyone laughs at anything the judge says in the hope that it will make him more sympathet- ic to their side) and this was no exception. However, not only did no one laugh but Maxwell suddenly broke down in tears and, producing a large handkerchief, began to sob uncontrollably. He explained that the mention of Eichmann brought back memo- ries of the loss of his family at the hands of the Nazis. A solemn hush descended on the court. Private Eye's solicitor wrote, 'Maxwell takes out onion' on the pad in front of him, but his cynicism was not shared by anyone else. The scene had a great impact on the jury. I even felt mildly guilty myself. I was therefore greatly relieved this week to meet Lord Spens, the former Guinness defendant, who told me at a lunch that he had spent the evening with Maxwell on that very day seven years ago. When Spens had asked him about the tears in the court, Maxwell had roared with laughter, pointed to himself and shouted, 'Forget Rada.'
g Ican't get as worked up about Tiny Row- land as about Maxwell. Watching Tom Bower's programme about him on the BBC confirmed this, since Rowland reminds me not of Schwarzenegger but of Harry Enfield's character Mr Cholmondeley- Warner, who appears in black-and-white information films telling you how to use a telephone. It is difficult to generate much hatred for a tycoon who sounds quite so absurd. And anyway, I must admit to a soft spot for Rowland. After yet another court case, where Sonia Sutcliffe was awarded damages of £600,000 against Private Eye, I received an unexpected phone-call. The man the magazine always calls the 'goose- stepping old sanctions buster' rang me up in my office. 'You will need my help,' said the voice at the other end of the line. I explained to Rowland, for it was he, that we were going to appeal against the deci- sion and it was possible that we would get the damages reduced. 'If not,' the voice insisted, 'you will need my help. But I will only help you on one condition.' I waited nervously to see what particular Faustian bargain he would offer. 'You must keep on attacking me,' he barked. Then he started laughing and rang off.
40 glorious ears. Mel Smith has a job at the moment even more demanding than playing Maxwell. He is trying to sell British Tele- com shares. In the character of Inspector Morose (geddit?), Smith is appearing on posters and in newspapers looking for the Government's remaining shares. He is made up to look like John Thaw as Inspec- tor Morse, which someone in advertising clearly thought was a good idea. I am not so sure. John Thaw at the moment means terrible French accents in Provence rather than weary detectives in agreeable Oxford settings. Jumping on the Morse bandwagon now seems to be poor timing. The huge success of Morse has been overshadowed by the huge failure of the Peter Mayle adaptation and the admen may be, as they put it, 'buying into both'. I can't help feel- ing that the whole idea of the campaign is as tired as the privatisation process behind it.
he rail privatisation is looking exhaust- ed even before it begins. 'This one's the biggest mess yet,' a cheerful conductor assured me on the train from Torquay. The simple idea of selling off the railways has turned out to be rather more difficult in practice, and what began with loud cheers at a Tory conference has ended in muted confusion. And the more John MacGregor explains his plans, the less sense they seem to make. So I was grateful to the conductor for taking the time not just to punch my ticket but to give me an analysis of the potential disasters for new franchise hold- ers. Apparently they will have to be heavily subsidised themselves or go bust. 'And what happens then?' he asked. I did not know, but he did because he had been watching MacGregor in the Commons on television. 'The Government gives British Rail the line back.' British Rail, therefore, is not allowed to bid for any franchises but has to run them anyway if the company awarded the franchise turns out to be use- less. The conductor was so irritated by this thought that he said he was going to 'leave the railways'. MacGregor has clearly failed to persuade the industry that his plans will lead to a more efficient network. Thn Government is having problems, and, like all of their problems, this one is being diagnosed as 'presentational'. MacGregor's message is fine apparently, but it is just not being communicated positively. To correct this we can no doubt expect a huge Government advertising campaign along the lines of the British Telecom extravagan- za. They will probably follow Brs example and go for celebrities who the) feel are strongly identified with success, l expect they will choose the cast of Eldorado.
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