AMANDA PLATELL: This is the real scandal at the heart of the BBC that we are all being manipulated into ignoring. John Torode's sacking is just a distraction
Who knows. But as a newsman, Davie must have been aware the allegation against Torode, who has denied it and is said to be considering suing the Beeb, would get blanket press coverage.
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The Independent
22 minutes ago
- The Independent
How a junior trader paid for the banking crisis – while the big bosses never joined him in the dock
The wheels of British justice are appallingly slow. Back in 2016, I wrote that the conviction of Tom Hayes, the bank trader jailed for conspiring to manipulate the Libor interest rate, was unsafe. Today, finally, the Supreme Court has agreed to quash his conviction. The case of Carlo Palombo, the other trader who had his conviction quashed today, was not linked to Hayes. Palombo received four years in 2019. When ex-Citi and UBS banker Hayes was found guilty in 2015, he was sentenced to 14 years, an astonishing long term for a white-collar criminal in this country. That was reduced to 11 years on appeal, but as I remarked at the time, you get less for killing someone. There is no doubt he was being made an example of. There was considerable public anger at the way bankers had walked scot-free from the financial crisis – still is – and Hayes was seen as discouraging others. He was portrayed as being at the centre of a web, setting the benchmark rate used for millions of personal loans; he was therefore the worst of the worst, an arch-villain who profited from ordinary folks; he, everyone seemed to agree, deserved every moment spent inside. But in his case, there literally were no others. A year later, in a blow to the Serious Fraud Office, which brought the prosecutions, six brokers were acquitted of conspiring with him to fix the interbank rate. On their acquittals, in his cell at HMP Lowdham Grange, Hayes could be forgiven for raging against the iniquity of a system that saw his life ruined. Particularly, as in the professional hierarchy, Hayes was a junior. We were supposed to believe that others never condoned what he did. It simply never rang true that he was able to act without anyone above him at the bank knowing and agreeing. That unease only increased with details emerging about his personality. He was a bit of a geek, as many are in his area of work. He learned by heart the Highway Code from cover to cover when he was learning to drive. It was one of the traits that earned him his nicknames of 'Rain Man' and 'Kid Asperger's'. But, as he explained, it also meant he was ideally suited to futures trading. 'The success of getting it right, the success of finding market inefficiencies, the success of identifying opportunities and then when you get it right, it's like solving that equation,' Hayes said in court. 'It's make money, lose money, and it's just so pure.' Symptomatic of an underlying condition, he was also open and personable, not sophisticated at keeping something secret. Indeed, that was his defence, that what he did was common; he was encouraged to do what he did and he did not believe he was acting dishonestly. It would have been more reassuring if his bank bosses had joined him in the dock. But they never did. Nevertheless, the promise of the subsequent trial of his alleged co-conspirators did provide some comfort. Then they were acquitted. Hayes said he was delighted with the outcome. He was 'thrilled that the brokers can return to their families and their lives' but was 'bewildered' that he was left 'in a situation where he [was] convicted of conspiring with nobody'. Originally, there were 22 names on the draft indictment, including the six found innocent. At Hayes' trial, most of the evidence presented against him was in relation to those six – hence the Serious Fraud Office's decision to pursue only them. Most of the other names were thought to be peripheral. Hayes said he had never met or even spoken to them; there were some he'd been in touch with via email or other messaging, but just a few times. Ahead of Hayes' trial, the judge, Mr Justice Cooke, decided to separate his hearing from that of the brokers and his alleged co-conspirators. Their statements were not allowed to be submitted in Hayes' trial. Presumably, if they had been, given the jury's conclusion in their trial, this may have assisted his defence. Critically, his jury was unaware of evidence relating to whether or not an agreement between the co-defendants was ever reached. After their acquittals, David Green, then head of the SFO, said: 'The key issue in this trial was whether these defendants were party to a dishonest agreement with Tom Hayes. By their verdicts, the jury have said that they could not be sure that this was the case.' It was an odd use of words from Green. He was trying to justify the prosecution by saying that in the end, the jury could not be certain, so therefore they acquitted. Where, though, does the jury say that? Equally, the jury could surely have been certain there was no agreement – Green simply did not know. In Hayes' earlier trial, however, without the evidence from his alleged co-conspirators, the jury was certain there was a conspiracy. Later, with those not guilty verdicts, that did not seem right or fair. During his closing speech to the jury at Hayes' trial, Mukul Chawla QC for the prosecution was keen to point out that Hayes was the first but would not be the last. Again this was a reference to the six. But look what happened. In light of their acquittals and the non-submission of their statements in his trial, Hayes deserved a fair hearing. Shamefully, it took nine further years for that day to arrive.
The Independent
22 minutes ago
- The Independent
Trump's golfing weekend in Scotland is an even bigger headache than his state visit
Donald Trump's golfing trip to Scotland this weekend has started to look like a few days of welcome relief for the US president. From Downing Street's perspective, however, it may all look a bit different. At home, Trump is embroiled in linked controversies that seem to have come out of the blue. Having seen off most of the legal challenges to the orders he issued in his first days back in office, he now faces a quasi-rebellion from his hitherto loyal and largely unquestioning base over a case that has little obvious bearing on high politics at all. These die-hard Trumpists were disappointed by official findings that the accused child-trafficker and convicted sex offender, Jeffrey Epstein, did indeed die by suicide in prison and that there is, and was, no secret client list. They had shared a conspiracy theory that Epstein was part of a shadowy elite, that he had been killed to keep him quiet, and that after Trump came to power, the truth would emerge. Now, Trump is himself being accused of an establishment cover-up, and is confronting a social media storm that even this master of the medium is struggling to control. Trump has also launched lawsuits against the Wall Street Journal, its proprietor, Rupert Murdoch, and two journalists, denying a report of links between Trump and Epstein, including a bawdy birthday greeting allegedly sent by Trump. The prospect of a court confrontation between the two titans is tantalising. Trump has also ordered files relating to the Epstein case to be published, and both his attorney general and Congress want to question Ghislaine Maxwell – the only person convicted in connection with the case so far. It may be surmised that they hope to tempt Maxwell with a reduction in her 20-year sentence and persuade her to offer some 'helpful' evidence. With only a year until the start of the midterm congressional election campaign, Trump needs to keep his base intact. No wonder four days in the wilds of Scotland – the homeland of his late mother and two Trump-owned golf courses, including a new resort on the Menie Estate, outside Aberdeen – might look like a welcome distraction. His foes on this side of the Atlantic are already tuning up – wags have put up a spoof sign at his golf course near Aberdeen that says 'twinned with Epstein Island' – and elaborate police and security operations are in train. When Trump last visited his Scottish businesses two years ago, he was not president. Now, even on a private visit, he requires presidential-level security, at least some of which must be supplied and paid for by the host country. The timing of this trip, less than one month before Trump's unprecedented second state visit to the UK, adds risk. Any infelicities, real or perceived, on either side now are in danger of negatively colouring the later visit, the invitation for which was conveyed by Keir Starmer during his trip to the White House soon after Trump's inauguration. Since then, content, timing and tone have all been in contention. The recent state visit by France's President Macron, with its especially high pageantry, address to parliament, and prominent deployment of the Prince and Princess of Wales, seemed top-of-the-line. Like the Macrons, the Trumps will stay at Windsor Castle, but this occasion has been timed to exclude the possibility of a parliamentary address and the visit to Balmoral that Trump angled for. Nor, the Palace has made clear, will the King be meeting Trump during his golfing weekend. The private and state visits are wisely being kept distinct. At government level, in contrast, a different choice has been made. The prime minister is expected to hold talks with Trump, potentially on every current issue, from trade tariffs to Ukraine, in or near Aberdeen, and possibly at Trump's golf course. There will also be a meeting with Scotland's first minister, John Swinney, who has decided that it is his duty 'to engage, to protect and to promote the interests of the people of Scotland', despite vocal opposition from other groups. Now, it could be said that Starmer, in particular, was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Given that the decision has been taken, however, the aim must be to limit any damage. Anything that smacks of paying tribute must be avoided, and that includes meeting Trump at his golf course and any announcement about awarding the 2028 British Open to the now Trump-owned Turnberry, as the president would reportedly like. By meeting Trump in Scotland, Starmer risks not only becoming the focus of protests himself but also party to the negative blowback from British public opinion. As much can go wrong as go right. The prime minister should have followed the Palace and left all official encounters for the main event, where the protocol is clear and risks of all kinds are minimised. After all, there are fewer than four weeks to wait.
Times
23 minutes ago
- Times
Samuel Pepys was a sexual predator — the case for the prosecution
One day in February 1668 the naval official Samuel Pepys bought a book. Given his bibliophile tendencies, this was a regular occurrence, but The School of Venus was no ordinary volume. Pepys had dithered over the purchase for weeks, eventually deciding that he really should read this 'most bawdy, lewd book' just once, for information. Later that day, after an enjoyable evening in his private chamber, he burnt it, 'that it might not be among my books to my shame'. Fortunately for us, Pepys's embarrassment did not stop him from recording this and many other pleasurable episodes in another, equally racy book: his diary, which he kept throughout the 1660s and in which he confessed to many incidents that blushing Victorian editors deemed unfit for publication. Not until the 1970s did the most explicit extracts make it into print, albeit with Pepys's polyglot (the complicated multilingual shorthand in which he recorded his most private thoughts) untranslated. Consequently, although some scholars have highlighted his uncomfortably sleazy behaviour, Pepys is seen widely as a ladies' man; highly sexed but harmless. In The Confessions of Samuel Pepys, the historian Guy de la Bédoyère (who has also edited several volumes of Pepys's correspondence) sets out to correct this misapprehension. By compiling, translating and commenting on the sections of the diary that focus on Pepys's personal life, he presents a powerful case for the prosecution. Some of the most damning evidence relates to Pepys's treatment of his wife, Elisabeth — who was, he claimed, a foolish, argumentative woman, prone to tuneless singing and with embarrassingly poor taste in art. Even if that was true, she had a lot to put up with. Pepys could be loving and generous, but he was also prone to beating his dependants and so jealous that, when he found Elisabeth talking to her dancing master, he crept upstairs 'to see whether any of the beds were out of order'. Of course, the serial philanderer in the Pepys household was not Elisabeth but Samuel, whose many extramarital activities ranged from brief encounters with the prostitutes of the Fleet Alley to lengthy affairs. One of his longest relationships was with the linendraper Betty Martin, which continued after she married. This arrangement suited them both since he could have sex without fear of becoming a father, and her husband got a hand up the career ladder. But all too often, Pepys took advantage of women and girls who could not object, with those employed in his household especially vulnerable to his wandering hands. So were desperate women such as Mrs Robins, who sought his assistance when her husband was press-ganged into the navy. He agreed to help, but only after 'I made her put her hand upon my thing'. Such coercive behaviour was, it seems, typical of Pepys, who often 'did what I would' when meeting resistance. His persistence sometimes drove women to desperate measures: one maid, repeatedly groped during a sermon, eventually threatened to prick him with a pin if he touched her again. • The 21 best history books of the past year to read next More often, it was Pepys who used violence to get what he wanted. The unfortunate Elizabeth Bagwell met Pepys when she and her husband sought his patronage; shortly afterwards, he sexually assaulted her at a dinner party. Then he turned up at her home, where 'though with a great deal of difficulty, nevertheless in the end I had my will of her'. The following day he complained of a hand injury 'received last night in struggling with the woman I mentioned yesterday'. Other editors have left the details of this encounter conveniently vague, but Bédoyère's translation is clear: Mrs Bagwell resisted Pepys, and he raped her. Possibly he felt that her flirtatious manner justified his actions; a few years later, when his long-term mistress Doll Lane was violently assaulted, he argued that she had no right to complain, given her willingness to have sex with him. Even more objectionable was his response to a gang rape witnessed from his carriage: 'God forgive me, what thoughts and wishes I had of being in their place.' Despite finding such behaviour repugnant, Bédoyère is reluctant to call Pepys a sex pest — although his own theory that the diarist was a sex addict seems equally unsatisfactory. So should we simply accept that Pepys was a man of his time who cannot be judged by modern standards? Certainly many of his friends — including his work crony Peter Llewellyn, who gleefully shared a story about a mutual acquaintance posing as a physician in order to fondle a woman's genitals — could be equally boorish. And yet it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Pepys did know better. For one thing, he expected high moral standards from other people: this was a man who disapproved of (among other things) lecherous courtiers, his brother's interest in a pretty new maid, and women who cheated on their husbands. • Read more book reviews and interviews — and see what's top of the Sunday Times Bestsellers List Throughout the diary, he repeatedly declared himself 'ashamed' of his conduct, vowed to reform his ways, and was plagued by fears of discovery. When Elizabeth found him fondling their maidservant Deb Willett and threw the girl out of their house, it was not his wife's upset but her threats to 'publish my shame' that truly alarmed him. For a brief period, Pepys was chastened, too afraid of Elizabeth's anger even to 'look about me to see the fine faces'. But he was soon back to his old ways, seeking out new women and plotting to take Deb's virginity despite her obvious reluctance to touch him, his predatory behaviour continuing right up to the diary's final entry — and doubtless beyond. Bédoyère's focus on Pepys's unsavoury behaviour ultimately does the diarist no favours; his sexual exploits are much easier to stomach in wider-ranging editions, where they form just part of the rich tapestry of his undeniably interesting life. Nevertheless, this portrait of a deeply flawed man enhances our understanding of one of England's great diarists — even as it forces us to confront the fact that even interesting and extremely likeable people can behave very unpleasantly behind closed Confessions of Samuel Pepys: His Private Revelations by Guy de la Bédoyère (Abacus £25 pp400). To order a copy go to Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members
