MANY years ago, when the European Union's Nice Treaty was being put together, I was tipped off that the draft contained a proposal under which all member states would have to pony up financial aid were one or more countries to get into trouble.
Furthermore, this was a majority-vote decision, so Britain may one day have to fork out for a member of the eurozone that had run into difficulties, the UK having been outvoted on the question. Sure enough, this clause went into the treaty, and come the economic crisis, I reminded the Treasury of the fact and asked what sort of sums we could be liable for.
The press liaison person to whom I spoke went away, came back and told me I had it all wrong and that the clause applied only to natural disasters. It did indeed refer to natural disasters, I replied, but also to any other large-scale difficulties.
Away they went, came back and this time told me the clause applied only to candidate countries for EU membership. Or perhaps it was to the newly-joined countries. Either way, it was nonsense, as none of this was even mentioned in the clause. I pointed all this out.
Came the reply 'Well, that's what the policy people said.' The scale of the delusion of the 'policy people' became clear when Alistair Darling, in the last days of his Chancellorship, was unable to prevent Britain being roped into an initial bailout fund for the victims of that self-inflicted economic injury, the euro.
All of which is a rather roundabout way of saying that I fully expect similar protestations regarding my column in today's edition of The Mail on Sunday pointing out that eurozone finance ministers have nuclear button they can press to take control of the euro and issue instructions to the European Central Bank as to the level of interest rates.
It is Article 219 of the EU treaty, and covers a decision by said ministers to decide an exchange-rate target, the meeting of which would become the central purpose of interest-rate policy. The wording suggests the only defence the ECB would be able to invoke would be not its much-vaunted independence, but the claim that the exchange-rate target would be inflationary.
All this came about after Francois Hollande's remarks last week, when he said the euro was too strong and that it ought to be eurozone policy to bring it down. In the wake of the French President's remarks, assorted expert voices were murmuring that Hollande was not, of course, suggesting political interference with the ECB. Indeed, he could not have been making any such suggestion, because that was ruled out by the treaty.
Yes, sure. As, of course, was the idea of Britain being forced to contribute to a bailout for eurozone countries. By the way, the bailout clause is still there - Article 122, if you're interested.
1) Europe: Two footnotes
Footnote one: I'll believe in David Cameron's triumph in cutting the EU budget in real terms when it actually happens. This still has to be approved by the freeloaders in the EU's Supreme Soviet, the European Parliament. Let's wait until that vote is counted, shall we?
Footnote two: A few weeks ago, it emerged that the European Commission wants a piece of the action in terms of press regulation. On this side of the Channel there has been understandable alarm in some quarters but in others a general do-me-a-favour thigh-slapping hilarity at this latest daft idea. Why? Bad EU ideas almost always come to pass - just look at the single currency.
2) Ask me a riddle and I reply...
...Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.
That was Winnie-the-Pooh, of course, and I am reminded of this lovely piece of nonsense whenever officialdom comes up with a new stock reponse to high-profile disaster or wrongdoing.
For many years, 'A full public inquiry' fulfilled this role. But that seems to have been superseded by 'A specific criminal offence'.
Thus the reaction to the rigging of the LIBOR interest rate is to make such rigging a specific criminal offence, while last week's report into the horrors of Mid-Staffordshire NHS Foundation Trust has apparently proposed a specific criminal offence to conceal information related to poor care.
Next up, no doubt - a specific criminal offence of selling horsemeat labelled 'beefburger'.
3) The world's not jealous any more
THIS has been an awful few months for all those institutions that we are told are 'the envy of the world': the police (Plebgate), the BBC (Savile), the law courts (in the Frances Andrade case), our 'world class' retailers (in the horse-burger affair) and the National Health Service. Will we take this opportunity to rid ourselves of the ludicrous notion of a green-eyed world casting envious glances at all those things we do so much better than they do?
No, I don't think so either.
4) The name game
NOT so long ago, the routine, everyday use of the shortened version of a person's first name was thought to be rather suspect. The Christmas play programme in my village primary school listed me as 'Dan.' rather than 'Dan' - not an early adoption of dot-com language but what was thought of as the correct way to write an abbreviation of any sort, including a name.
This was Christmas 1969, by the way, rather than Christmas in some far-flung dark age.
Political figures referred to by diminutives fall into four categories.
The first - including Tony Blair, Tony Benn, Nick Clegg, Chris Patten, Paddy Ashdown, Jimmy Carter - have either always been known by their abbreviated first names or have been so for such a long time that it makes little difference.
The second - Ted Heath, Jim Callaghan, Jack Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy - were thus described in a sort of hale and hearty way by political commentators and others keen to suggest an acquaintance with the high and mighty, it being generally known that this is how they were addressed in private by friends and family.
The third - 'Maggie' Thatcher, being the one example that comes immediately to mind - were never thus addressed in their public life or probably even by their closest associates, yet the bogus diminutive became an invaluable brand - and an appealing target for opponents, as in 'Maggie Out'.
Finally, there is a category of one, our Prime Minister. The only time he is referred to as 'Dave' (at least in the media) is when someone is suggesting he is a phoney. Whether he is really 'Dave' behind closed doors has become almost irrelevant.
5) Prison works (cont.)
ANOTHER long-time diminutive is hapless Chris Huhne, the former Cabinet Minister whom everyone assumes is going to be jailed over the speeding-points affair. Now I know that Huhne's (first) namesake and fellow diminutive Chris Grayling is talking tough as Lord Chancellor and Justice Secretary, but I thought the 'in' doctrine was still that only dangerous criminals and/or those who really deserved it ought to be banged up.
Huhne is clearly a danger to no-one and as for deserving it, how many other first-time offenders of a long-ago offence of this magnitude (or lack of it) would be looking forward to a diet of porridge?
In common, I guess, with lots of other people, I couldn't bring myself to read the whole of the horribly painful text-message exchanges between Huhne and his son. He is obviously a dingbat of the first order (Huhne senior, that is, not Huhne junior), but prison?
We did not overlap, but Chris Huhne and I both worked for The Guardian. So you may not be surprised when I suggest that perhaps he has been punished enough already.
Thanks again for reading and enjoy the rest of the weekend.
Going South: Why Britain Will Have A Third World Economy By 2014, by Larry Elliott and Dan Atkinson is published by Palgrave Macmillan.