Diary

http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2012/oct/29/hugh-muir-diary-conrad-black

Version 0 of 1.

• They must have been quite a sight. Two figures, loved and reviled in equal measure, out dining on a chilly evening. What did they discuss? Power, perhaps: both have sought and exercised power. Maybe literature? Both are writers of high repute. Politics, one assumes: both see themselves maligned by lefties. Possibly law-breaking – one of them has done time, having helped himself to an awful lot of money that wasn't his, and the other has responsibility for policing. That might have provided a lighter moment, given that the latter was once recorded discussing the finer details of breaking someone's legs. One suspects that Boris Johnson would have preferred to keep his date with former boss Conrad Black low key, particularly after all that trouble about one-to-ones the mayor had with Murdoch. But Conrad blabbed about the rendez-vous to broadcaster Iain Dale on the talk station LBC 97.3 on Sunday. The convict and the mayor united by the set menu. Never a paparazzo around when you need one.

• Conrad was on a roll on the radio. There was none of the profanity of his earlier interviews – no one struck him as a "jackass" or an "asshole". And no repetition of his threat to Paxman of physical violence. But there were dark threats of a sort against the biographer Tom Bower, whose book, Conrad and Lady Black: Dancing on the Edge, was so appallingly disrespectful. You want revenge, suggested Iain Dale. No, I don't want revenge, said Conrad sweetly. But you said you would take the fillings out of his teeth and the roof off his house, countered Dale. Oh, that's not revenge, said Conrad airily. When you have been where he's been, seen what he has seen, parameters change.

• Furrowed brows, meanwhile, on the island of Sark, where the big wheels are the Barclay Brothers, owners of the Ritz and the Telegraph. Nosy incomers aren't always welcomed there. Right now there's such a problem. For who has pitched up but John Sweeney, the BBC reporter, scourge of the Barclays for his reporting in the past. Scourge, more recently of the Scientologists. He's making a Panorama touching on the Barclays and their business activities. No telling what he will say, or how they will respond. But we sense there is unease, because Kevin Delaney, described as the Barclays' lieutenant on Sark, has penned a front-page denunciation of Sweeney and Panorama for the Sark News, delivered to every home on the island. In effectiveness terms, this is like trying bothering a 747 with a catapult. Trouble ahead. Set your videos.

• Trying times at Terry towers, the former England captain's huge post-Dallas mansion taking shape in Surrey. Poor John Terry was fined £200,000 by the FA, a tad more by Chelsea perhaps, and was forced to take a short involuntary playing holiday. All thanks to five ill-chosen words to Anton Ferdinand a year ago on the pitch. So JT has been hit where it hurts – in the pocket, but that's not been enough to retard progress on his 11-bedroom, four-bathroom house. The excavators keep digging and the concrete mixers mixing. Terry castle is now all but complete outside, and is covered in a plastic film while the interior is fitted. Some way to go, but there is already one staple in place. The television aerials are up. He can watch the games that should have featured him on Match of the Day.

• Finally, on the day of the Spear's Wealth Management Awards and in the week officials in London release their report on the belated assistance given to those who suffered during last year's riots, a different take from Spear's magazine, the publication for the super-wealthy: riot protection tips for the 1%. "Imagine you are in your Campden Hill drawing room during an outbreak in Ladbroke Grove," it says. Do you show yourself, or pretend your pile is empty? "They will smash your Chinoiserie, draw on your Van Dycks." If by chance they find you, "lower your eyes and talk calmly to all the gang members", says Spear's. And if that doesn't work, whack the nearest and scream "Haaa-eee-yah" to "underline your resolve" and "attract attention". Good plan. As they fall over laughing, one can hotfoot it away.

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