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Quick update on Keir Starmer’s government of “national renewal”: having just lost his deputy and housing secretary over her failure to pay the required stamp duty, the prime minister has also lost his US ambassador over his known close association with a known paedophile sex trafficker. Hang on – he’s now also lost his director of political strategy for relating some dirty jokes about Diane Abbott.
Meanwhile, an increasing number of people think the solution to all this is Andy Burnham taking over, suggesting the current Greater Manchester mayor could run in a parliamentary seat that has only notionally become free because the previous Labour MP was suspended from the party after being found to have sent messages hoping a couple of constituents would soon be dead/“mown down”, and is now apparently “off sick”. On top of which, we’re having the Americans round. US president Donald Trump touches down in the UK tonight on the eve of the most hideously ill-starred dinner party since the vomiting scene in Triangle of Sadness. I don’t think the nation could possibly feel any more renewed.
It’s been a few days since Peter Mandelson’s emails to Jeffrey Epstein were held up in front of the public using the hazmat tongs, and the more I’ve thought about them, the more I come back to one of the more obscure lines. Writing in apparent anguish on the eve of Epstein’s incarceration in 2008, Mandelson opines to him: “It just could not happen in Britain.” Maybe he was right, unwittingly or otherwise. Britain is very, very good at a sort of institutionalised looking away. Maybe Mandelson was – unwittingly or otherwise – characterising something grim about this country that pious old Keir Starmer would no doubt be hugely affronted to be caught up in. Except, the prime minister is caught up in it – in fact, he’s at the very centre of it. He is the one who looked away.
It’s hard not to feel there is something necrotic and beaten about a government whose leader would appoint someone he knew had been very close to Epstein, who the entire world by that point knew was – and forgive me for repeating the words – a paedophile sex trafficker. Association with him was already known to be such a horror show that the late Queen Elizabeth II had to sack her own son for it. And there is something worse about Starmer’s horrifying lack of curiosity even as the facts closed in, right till the bitter end, with No 10 dithering for staggeringly long last week over a set of quite the most disqualifying emails, while Starmer fannied about defending Mandelson at the dispatch box.
This was, of course, the other dispatch box to the one at which Sir Keir plied his holier-than-thou trade in opposition. There’s an old online rule that declares that if you tell someone off for their spelling or grammar, you will always end up making your own howler while you’re doing it. Starmer spent his years in opposition telling off the Tories at every turn, instead of – for instance – coming up with a creative and coherent plan for growth. Inevitably, we now seem to be strapped in to watching him and his administration warrant a daily telling-off, as offences and immoralities mount up. Why does this keep happening to him, etc?
As for Epstein, we know that at the time Mandelson was writing to him telling him to fight for early release, police in Palm Beach, Florida had identified 36 girls who the “financier” had sexually abused. Yet for all the many years of grim and grotesque revelations, it still feels as though we know remarkably little about him. Who was he, this mysterious paedo Gatsby, and where did all his money come from?
Shortly after his death, New York magazine ran a fascinating story in which real hedge-funders expressed pointed bemusement over how Epstein made his money, since none of them had really had any dealings with him. As one big hedge-fund president, Doug Kass, put it: “I went to my institutional brokers, to their trading desks and asked if they ever traded with him. I did it a few times until the date when he was arrested. Not one institutional trading desk, primary or secondary, had ever traded with Epstein’s firm.” As Kass had said to a journalist: “There’s another guy who reminds me of Madoff that no one trades with.” Or as another hedgie remarked: “It’s hard to make a billion dollars quietly.” And yet Epstein had made no noise at all in the financial world. They could barely find one investor. Their general theory was that the “hedge fund” was simply a cover for a blackmail scheme.
Perhaps most amazing, really, is the fact that Epstein will be a ghost at the feast tomorrow night for more than one attender, as Trump continues to butch out his long and close association with precisely the type of evildoer his Maga followers are convinced runs the world. Epstein is a guy who really does fit the very template of their darkest conspiracy theories – rich and powerful, involved in the trafficking of minors, connected in a network of some of the most powerful people in the world. This is all the sort of stuff they’ve been going on about for years – yet who should keep rearing his head in the story, but their own beloved president.
Isn’t it intriguing how many of them (currently) just can’t bring themselves to believe it? Something to discuss over the starter tomorrow night at Windsor Castle, perhaps, as long as everyone can keep their food down.
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Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist
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