A racist rant too far? Police investigate Taki the playboy pundit

A racist rant too far? Police investigate Taki the playboy pundit By Sholto Byrnes

Taki Theodoracopoulos once served four months in Pentonville Prison for possession of cocaine. Now the prospect of a two-year stretch in jail looms for the Greek playboy and columnist.

Taki and The Spectator, for which he writes the "High Life" column, are being investigated by Scotland Yard over an article he wrote in the magazine's 11 January edition.

The investigation was triggered by a complaint from Peter Herbert, a lawyer and member of the Metropolitan Police Authority. The Yard's Diversity Directorate will assess whether the piece incites racial hatred and thereby breaks the Public Order Act, for which the maximum sentence is two years.

Even by Taki's standards the piece was extraordinarily offensive. Under the headline "Thoughts on Thuggery" he wrote: "Oh boy, was Enoch – God rest his soul – ever right! Now there's a man who was tough on the causes of crime long before the crime had been Blaired."

Referring to the New Year shootings of two black girls in Birmingham he continued: "Only a moron would not surmise that what politically-correct newspapers refer to as 'disaffected young people' are black thugs, sons of black thugs and grandsons of black thugs ... West Indians were allowed to immigrate after the war, multiply like flies, and then the great state apparatus took over the care of their multiplications. The "Rivers of Blood "speech by Enoch was prophetic as well as true, and look what the bullshitters of the time did to the great man."

The article has already caused considerable embarrassment to Boris Johnson, editor of The Spectator and a Tory MP. "It was a terrible thing," said Mr Johnson, who was on holiday the week the article appeared but takes full responsibility for its publication.

"It should never have gone in." Informed of the police investigation, Mr Johnson declined to comment until he heard from Scotland Yard.

Such casual racism is the stock-in-trade of Taki, who is known mainly by his first name. In 1997 he described Puerto Ricans in New York as "a bunch of semi-savages ... fat, squat, ugly, dusky, dirty." In 2001 he called himself a "soi-disant anti-Semite" and has also referred to Kenya as "bongo-bongo land".

Repulsive though such comments are, they are what pass for humour in the Eurotrash plutocratic circles in which Taki mixes. His world skis at Gstaad, goes to the Ascot races – a crowd of "society" figures who are slowly departing for the great gambling tables of the hereafter.

Married to Princess Alexandra Schoenburg, Taki inherited a fortune from his father John and divides his time between a $5m house in New York's Upper East Side and Gstaad, where he recently crashed his car.

His strict treatment at the hands of the local police is what prompted his musings on crime problems in Britain.

His friends and acquaintances are the characters that fill his friend Nigel Dempster's pages. The Daily Mail gossip columnist refers to Taki as the "Greek sportsman", a description he has earned through his past participation in the Davis Cup and captaining of the Greek karate team.

He was close to Gianni Agnelli. His friendship with the Fiat magnate lasted 45 years until his recent death. "K", the Aga Khan, was a friend and he boasts an on-off friendship with Mohamed al-Fayed, English aristocrats, obscure European royalty and any pretty girl who chances across his path.

His interest in right-wing politics comes from his father, and he is proud of the fact that not much thought has gone into his views. "Why make up your own mind when someone else can make up your mind for you?" he has asked.

Along with the Duke of Devonshire and the Earl of Portsmouth he was one of the backers of Neil Hamilton's failed libel bid against Mr Fayed, although he was not best pleased when he later found himself being pursued for Mr Fayed's costs.

Taki is happy to admit, as readers of his Spectator column know, to taking a line so right-wing it borders on the fascist. When building a new house he declared that he would name it "Palazzo Pinochet", after the Chilean dictator. General Franco is another of his heroes.

When Mr Johnson took over the editorship of The Spectator there was speculation that Taki would go, being considered a relic of the magazine's past.

Taki even wrote a column announcing that he had been sacked. Unfortunately for his critics – and he has many even among the Telegraph group, of which The Spectator is a part – he was joking, leading Max Hastings, then editor of the Evening Standard, to remark: "You always know where you are with Taki. Like the Prussians, he is either at your knees or your throat."

One senior Telegraph executive said Taki had no privileged position and that any decision on his future will be "down to Boris".

But Taki has had at least one run-in with Conrad Black, owner of The Spectator. His anti-semite claim so incensed Mr Black that the owner of The Daily Telegraph wrote a two-page letter to his own magazine, condemning Taki.

If the Scotland Yard investigation does find against Taki, Mr Johnson will be expected to sack him. Taki once described himself as "worthless". The question is now whether his editor agrees with him.

"A bunch of semi-savages ... fat, squat, ugly, dusky, dirty and unbelievably loud. They turned Manhattan into Palermo faster than you can say 'spic'."

"Democracy is as likely to come to bongo-bongo land as I am to send a Concorde ticket to my children."

"What politically correct newspapers refer to as 'disaffected young people' are black thugs, sons of black thugs and grandsons of black thugs ... West Indians were allowed to immigrate after the war [and] multiply like flies."

"Not that I'm calling Cherie Blair a whore. She couldn't be one even if she wanted to; not good-looking enough."

"She, too, could not make a living from the world's oldest profession because of ugly looks and terrible ankles."

"I'm a family man, a provider, I pay my taxes, I'm white (although always sun-tanned) ... I inherited from my old man ... I employ people, I own a yacht ... you name it, I'm guilty of it."

"In Cool Britannia we don't send the son of a left-wing prick like Straw to jail for dealing [drugs]; we vote him president of the Oxford Union (sic) instead. (Apparently he is as much of a dictator as his father, and just as phony)."

"[They] are, of course, the masters of the direct lie, able to look straight into the camera and tell incredible whoppers that would make Mother Teresa blush. The man [Tony Blair] is pathetic, almost on the level of Bill Clinton, except for the hair."

"Hislop deals in ruining people's lives through falsehoods, half-truths and gossip ... When that court high up in the sky gives the final verdict, the poisoned dwarf will come off second best."

Nothing like primary sources. From the Spectator of January 11, here it is:

Thoughts on thuggery
Taki
GSTAAD-It seems almost obscene to be sitting in bucolic Gstaad rubbing it in, but boy, oh boy, was Enoch — God rest his soul — ever right! Now there’s a man who was tough on the causes of crime long before crime had been Blaired. Or Strawed. Or Blunketted. What a bunch of bullshitters. Britain is being mugged by black hoodlums, people are being cut down in the streets à la Mogadishu in the early Nineties, and these clowns are passing a Bill which will put the poor little Greek boy in jail if I dare to defend Slobodan Milosevic (which I do, by the way).
It doesn’t take an extremely high IQ to figure out that the two girls who were shot in Birmingham were killed because a member of their family belonged to a rival gang. Nor does it take a genius to conclude that turf wars between mostly black gangs are fought over the control of drugs, mainly crack cocaine. Finally, only a moron would not surmise that what politically correct newspapers refer to as ‘disaffected young people’ are black thugs, sons of black thugs and grandsons of black thugs, in it for the money.
But let’s lighten up a bit. If you thought comedy was dead, what about Blunkett instructing Woolf to instruct the judges to use community penalties against violent criminals rather than sending the poor dears to do a Taki? This only six weeks ago. What a bunch of yo-yos! Talk about a gang that can’t shoot straight. If they had any shame, they would invite the hoodlums to take over the government, and I’m willing to bet my last euro that things would improve. At least we’d have some law and order. The trouble is if they did that, they’d all have to go on welfare, as none of them are capable of earning a living except in the bullshit business.
Writing in the Mail, Melanie Phillips, a good writer who knows her stuff, refers to the hoodlums as lacking self-esteem because of their shattered emotional backgrounds. I remember tens of millions whose backgrounds were shattered during the war — by rape, murder and pillage — who did not turn to crime but managed to live useful lives. No, the problem is not lack of self-esteem, a trick word used as often as racism. It’s being given something for nothing. It’s the welfare state. The socialist creed. The compassionate society. The bullshit society. West Indians were allowed to immigrate after the war, multiply like flies, and then the great state apparatus took over the care of their multiplications. The Rivers of Blood speech by Enoch was prophetic as well as true, and look what the bullshitters of the time did to the great man.
But back to bucolic Switzerland. One of the reasons it remains so is that when Taki backs his brand-new yellow mini into a tree, Taki is hauled off to explain. Zero tolerance is strictly applied in good old Helvetia, and I’m all for it, even if it doesn’t suit me late at night. And speaking of yellow minis against trees, I never realised how much publicity is generated when someone is questioned by the fuzz. The top diarist in America, Richard Johnson, writing on Page Six mentioned my last week’s column, then Washington picked it up, followed by El-Lay and the rest. By backing into a tree, I got countless mentions of my magazine, the American Conservative, which gives me food for thought.
I know a publicity-addicted woman by the name of Rena Sindi in New York. Last year the Sunday Telegraph mentioned her when her name appeared on the best-dressed list. ‘Who in heaven’s name is Rena Sindi?’ wrote the diarist. It was a good point. Well, I’ll tell you. She’s an Iraqi-born woman in her mid-thirties, recently divorced from a Saudi. She’s not a bad girl at all, actually quite kind, but her problem is she loves publicity about as much as I love the Wehrmacht. She gives parties which are paid for by sponsors; but I thought she should have disqualified herself after 9/11 because of her background. To the contrary. She even published a book on how to throw parties someone else pays for. Rena, take a plane to Switzerland, get a yellow mini, back it into a tree rather hard, and then wait for the fuzz at home. You’ll have all the publicity you have ever wished for.
But I digress. The snow is finally here, the sun is shining, and I’m off on a chopper for some high-mountain skiing. And, kidding aside, I do feel for the good English people back in England. I remember when England used to feel like Switzerland. That’s before the bullshitters took over.

There it is. Enemy of the people? Your call.

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