First Class conversation.

Let’s be clear. I have no obligation to Oscar. I’ve known him for years but that doesn’t mean I have to worry about his welfare. Here I sit on Virgin flight 34 from Antigua to London and I don’t give a toss about Oscar and his island. I’m acting on a whim. It’s how you get when you’re rich with no particular sense of purpose.

So I watch Leonardo Da Caprio hiding in a dead buffalo for a bit and doze off. When I wake up the little plane is about 1/4 along the blue line. It’s a long flight. Good time to catch up on my blog. I don’t know why I do it. It’s not as if I feel any burning need to communicate. I enjoy writing but I have no illusions about it. It’s either that or look out the window at clouds.

I pop into the First Class lounge. You never know who you’re going to run into there, politicians, pop stars, dictators, you name it. Maybe even Sir Richard himself. Normally people in first class flying from Antigua to London just want to relax, have a few vodkas. Not so today. The Panama Papers have everybody riled up.

“Well chaps,” says some wag by way of starting a discussion, “looks like we’ll all be moving our money to Nevada.”
 There is a ripple of nervous laughter.
“I’ll be talking to David Cameron soon,” says one bloke, “we’ll get it sorted.”
“Hope Cameron knows what he’s doing.” Says someone. “What about all those poor people in the hedge fund industry?”
“Don’t worry lads.” I say in a calm, measured way, “it’s just another bit of journalistic sensationalism. It’ll fizzle out in a few days.” I'm attempting, in my own humble way, to reassure my fellow over-privileged wankers.
“Can’t Rupert stop it?”
“Solidarity that’s the answer. We’ve got to stick together.”
“What about places like the Isle of Man and Jersey? It will ruin their economies.” says another. And so on….nobody quite knows how this will end up but I’m sure they’ll find a way to blame Putin.