Peter mandelson

Home Vickrum Digwa, 23, was jailed for life with a minimum term of 21 years for the murder of Henry Nowak, 18, who was stabbed several times; the victim was handcuffed and arrested while he was telling police he had been stabbed and saying ‘I can’t breathe’. Sir Keir Starmer, the Prime Minister, said that he ‘felt sick’ watching bodycam footage of the incident. Nicola Sturgeon, in a remarkable interview with the BBC about the embezzlement of £400,310.65 by her now-estranged husband, Peter Murrell, said she expected ‘a legal process to recover the money from Peter’, but she emphasised that: ‘I am not guilty of that embezzlement, so nothing that belongs to me should be part of that.

At the time of writing, I haven’t seen the King’s Speech, but it’s a safe bet it will include a bill to enable wayward peers to be stripped of their titles. The point, of course, is so that Keir Starmer, if he’s still PM by then, can show us just how much he loathes Peter Mandelson. It’s the equivalent of Loyalists after the Restoration exhuming Cromwell’s corpse so they could ‘execute’ him and stick his head on a spike in Westminster Hall. But because Mandelson hasn’t been found guilty of a crime – and is unlikely to be – the bar for removing a title will have to be quite low. It will inevitably be some version of ‘bringing the Lords into disrepute’.

Going to the theatre is a joy. When you are a character on the stage, less so. Over the past couple of months, I have been depicted in two plays. Having worked for Murdoch for years, I clearly enjoy pain and so, at my own expense, I went to see both. First up was a one-man show called Monstering the Rocketman at the Arcola in Dalston, which detailed how the Sun (me!) had accused Elton John of being involved in rent boy sessions. Our source, it turned out, had sold us a pack of lies, made more painful by the fact that the news editor, the reporter and I spent 90 minutes cross-questioning this stoat to satisfy ourselves he was telling the truth. It’s easy to be misled.

Home Sir Keir Starmer, the Prime Minister, spoke to President Donald Trump of America about the importance of reopening the Strait of Hormuz, but resisted his call for Britain’s ships to be sent there. The government considered sending British-made Octopus drone-interceptors to the Middle East. Sir Keir said £53 million would help a million households reliant on heating oil – £53 a household; ‘It’s moments like this that tell you what a government is about,’ he said. The economy showed zero growth in January, according to the Office for National Statistics. The ONS added alcohol-free beer to the basket of goods used to calculate inflation. John Lewis awarded staff a bonus for the first time in four years.

Home John Healey, the Defence Secretary, visited Cyprus after criticism of Britain’s response to drone attacks on the RAF base there. The Cyprus High Commissioner said: ‘The people are disappointed, the people are scared, the people could expect more.’ The destroyer HMS Dragon sailed for Cyprus from Portsmouth on 10 March. Rachel Reeves, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, told the Commons that inflation was likely to rise; the Office for Budget Responsibility estimated an extra percentage point increase on prices by the end of the year. The Prince of Wales aircraft carrier would not head for the Middle East. President Trump of America said: ‘That’s OK, Prime Minister Starmer… We don’t need people that join Wars after we’ve already won!

Back in the mists, early 1980s I suppose, I was asked to decorate a penthouse apartment in London for a tycoon who collected large-scale contemporary American art. Decor done, art hung, the porter asked if he could show it to the prospective buyer of the same-layout penthouse next door, a member of the Gaddafi family attending university in London. ‘Sure,’ we said, and a young man in black robes arrived a bit later. He did a quick recce, approved, and said he wanted to have exactly the same decoration, including the art, and ready to move into in ten days. My team pulled together a pretty good replica while Tom Bell and I spent a weekend making the art. Fake Stellas glowed with colour, fake Rothkos brooded. We slashed fake Fontanas, cartooned fake Lichtensteins, popped fake Warhols.