Huttonian’s former existence as a cookie pusher extraordinaire and imbiber of cocktails By Appointment has received some limelight in the public eye thanks to the entire Gerdieen semi broadsheet seemingly being devoted to serialising the adventures of our former man in Washington. Not that Huttonian receives a mention as yet (anxious scanning of the millions of column inches has been pleasantly fruitless) and anyhow I never climbed those dizzy heights –the Parises, Bonns and Washingtons of this world, so I doubt if my memoirs would be of great public interest. They might of course be of some concern to a limited number of self styled movers and shakers and I have played with the idea of writing a sort of post dated blog, sending samples of it in draft to former acquaintances and suggesting contributions to my post retirement fund so as they can be excised from the final version.
Thus my motivation would be Fun and Avarice. But in the case of our man with the rather Germanic moniker I wonder what his bag is. Avarice? Well I suppose he is not having his afterthoughts so extensively serialised without some money changing hands. But I doubt if that is it. The burning desire to spill the beans about the true story behind the Iraq War? The first of those on the inside to let it ll hang out? Could be. But what comes through is the whinge factor-and the apparent wish not to consume revenge as a cold dish. Our Number One Ambo in the known world appears to have suffered a serious of slights at the hands of No 10 and the Prime Minister-mostly it seems of a social or personal nature (being left out of guest lists for meals with the President, exclusion of wife from ditto, not being invited to No10 to say good by to Mr Blair on his handing in of his Cocked Hat, sour comments about Public Schools from No 10 staffers; the list is long and rather trivial, if not down right petty) And it leaves a sour taste in the mouth that confidential conversations with the great and the ought to be good are given so much publicity within not so long period of them having taken place. If I was a senior foreigner I would be very careful what I would say to a British Ambassador in case it turned up, under lurid headlines, in the media a few months later. And if I were a highheidian in the Foreign and Commonwealth office I would be checking up in Sir C’s Personal File to see if, by any chance, he ever signed the Official Secrets Act. And if he did draw to his attention some of its provisions including the costs of accommodation in the Tower of London.
And another thing. The timing is very unfortunate for the nice Tony Blair under pressure from so many other directions. Is Sir C being used or is this another bit of the revenge thing?
Jealousy I hear you cry. Perhaps so. If the Gerdian would like the memories of a ‘diplomatic’ (if that is the right word) lesser light, suitably embroidered to warrant serialisation, I could be persuaded. They know where to find me.
Don't they?
