Walls have ears
Their lordships in their labyrinth are mulling over their judgment, we hear, except that sources say they try not to be indoors when they converse and consult. Our mole says they are invariably to be found outdoors, in their gardens, talking over endless cups of tea or perambulating on the green, exchanging views on The Mother of All Judgments. This is for obvious reasons – even the walls have ears, they fear.
Outside the court, there’s a regular drama with spokesmen of The Man of Steel and The Great Khan holding impromptu pressers for the nation to behold. Each party slams the other and touts its coming success. If looks could kill, there would be blood on the floor. But as soon as the cameras are off, a big thaw sets in and both parties are polite to each other, sometimes exchanging pleasantries, occasionally even acknowledging their irritation with their respective leaders for having to defend the indefensible or tout the impossible.
Our mole in London has told us that the late, lamented Big Ben’s Hubby likes to stay at a famous five-star landmark hotel in the great city, named after one of Britain’s most distinguished Prime Ministers. It’s said Hubby reserves not one room or two, but a whole floor and his staff lodge with him, for the gent is generous and lavish in his spending on friends, family and staff. It’s also well known that Hubby brings his own cooks from Nawabshah, invariably men of his own tribe (because he fears poisoning), and they cook his preferred food. It’s always a regimen of bhindi, daal and pretty frugal fare. Hubby’s cooks and valets, on the other hand, do much better. Our mole saw them, in the company of Hubby’s bodyguards, tucking in at the Dorchester’s uber expensive restaurant, China Tang.