Richard Lutz pitches in with a warning about the UK’s very own special representative for international trade and investment
Randy Andy. Airmiles Andy. The Dope of York. The golfclub swinging boneheaded skirt chasing son of the Queen.
Our very own Andrew, ambassador for Britain’s trade.
Yes, his aging flabby face is splashed over the pages and thrust from our screen and, yes, there are some major points that need addressing such as his taste for sex fiends, his taste for despots, his taste for the first class high life at our expense and his taste for being a ‘volunteer’ for UK interests.
Yes, this man parlays with the Azari boss with his torture chambers on the gas filled Caspian sea. Yes, he entreats with the scions of Libya’s beleaguered head gangster Muammar Gaddafi. Yes, he clinks glasses and chits the chat with a host of seriously dubious hard men who are one swastika short of a Nazi.
And yes, he links arms to a host of others: countries built on the swill of bribery and violence: Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan and (until recently) Tunisia.
And yes (sigh) he is on the way soon to crucial oil drenched Saudi Arabia where our own government stopped any investigation into bribes to Saudi princes in order to snare defence contracts.
But..
He is acting on behalf of Britain. We push out the weapons that have slaughtered people in Libyan towns. We sell the tear gas that sends Egyptian masses screaming from the streets of Cairo and we sell the aircraft that, ironically, just may become a no flyzone victim.
In Joseph Heller’s novel Catch 22, there is an infamous character called Milo Minderbinder. He was a low grade soldier with a high grade corrupt mind. He worked deals to ensure the Allies had the guns and ammo. And he sold to the enemy to ensure they could defend themselves.
Britain–along with its other gunselling allies-is turning into a national Milo Minderbinder. We sell to the left. We sell to the right. We sell to the underdog. We sell to the topdog. We sell to the fascist clown. We sell to the rebel in the street.
Watch out Britain. The fault lies not in the par three heart of Airmiles Andy. But in ourselves.
