97 days ago
In Operation Mincemeat, in 1943, British Military intelligence dressed up a dead tramp as a Marine officer, floated his body carrying details of a planned invasion of Greece onto the Spanish coast knowing that the bogus plans would find their way to the Germans. The Germans fell for it and diverted tanks, boats and men from Sicily, where the allies really were going to land, to Greece. It was a triumph. There are two books written about the operation and both mention the underpants placed on the body but only in Ben Macintyre’s 2010 account, on which the Colin Firth film is based, is there real detail. Unfortunately, Macintyre engages in dramatic conceit and gets it all wrong. I start, once again, with those 4 young girls photographed in the late 1880s.
3573 days ago
The publication of material that you know to be untrue or misleading in an attempt to persuade folks to buy or sell securities is termed market abuse and is a criminal act and that brings me to the latest act of insanity by a Quindell (QPP) owning moron – the creation of the twitter account @tomwinifrith. You will note that it has only one n and so is not me but you could easily be forgiven for making that mistake.
This account appeared over the weekend and I am naturally flattered that the photo chosen as an avatar – as you can see in the screen shot below - is of Colin Firth rather than Ray Winstone. So far it has issued just one tweet which has been retweeted by six other Quindell morons and reads:
3900 days ago
Up to London for a lunch with libertarian fellow Shoreditch refugee Philip, a CEO meeting and then to the offices of a City law firm to moderate a panel presentation for Liquity – a new platform for investors in unlisted stocks. It is an interesting proposition and I wish the firm the best of luck, not least because it employs my fave Tory blogger Charlotte Argyle. Rather conceitedly I thought I was on pretty cracking form.
I was certainly getting a few laughs but it is quite possible that many of those present were laughing at me not at my witty asides. You never really know.
As soon as the formal bit was over I headed outside for a quick nicotine fix and a fellow who was leaving congratulated me on my style and cynicism and said I gave a most enjoyable performance. Thank you said I. He then introduced himself as a full time member of the House of Lords and thrust his card into my hand saying that he had read my blog but would become a more regular reader from now onwards.
I shall not name this fellow to spare his blushes but I find praise from a member of the political classes a bit disconcerting. Does he not know that when the Popular Libertarian Front sweeps to power in 2020 one of the first acts of Dear Leader Richard Poulden will be to have the entire political class strung up from lampposts? Naturally I shall be there in the front row with my knitting needles gloating as the tumbrils pass along the Mall.
But for his kind words tonight, I shall put in a good word with the PLF and Lord X will have his sentence commuted to 20 years in the newly established salt mines in the grim Northern Wastelands surrounding Stoke on Trent. But it got worse.
