Undiplomatic Diplomats:

I’ve recently added a few articles with some humour. The feedback has been positive so I’m continuing in this vein. Yesterday I wrote a fairly pessimistic piece on the future of Russia so it’s time to counter balance it with some amusing tales of life there.

I have been fortunate over the years to work closely with some of Ireland’s finest diplomats. Working with a state-owned company which was engaged in joint-ventures with foreign state-owned firms meant we stayed close to our foreign embassies. This ranged from offering assistance in the organisation of various events to occasionally seeking support when dealing with complex situations involving foreign state agencies.

Flags at the United Nations - the ultimate diplomatic gathering.

Now lest you become worried by the title of the article, let me state that the vast majority of Ambassadors and their support staff that I knew and dealt with were the epitome of diplomacy and good manners and many went out of their way to be helpful to us. There were however, a few who, shall we say, caused diplomatic incidents themselves or at least would have, if we hadn’t intervened. Suffice to say that no names will be mentioned here but those who were involved will know to whom I refer and will probably have a good laugh at the recollection.

We were also visited over the years by numerous Irish politicians of all shades and shapes and colours but that will generate a separate article on another day.

So to our first tale: When I was based in St Petersburg in Russia, we would have had regular visits from the Irish Ambassador, who was obviously based in the capital, Moscow. State visits by Ministers or anything with an Irish flavour would necessitate the attendance of the Ambassador. On the occasion in question, I think it was an art related event which elicited the visit.

Now, let me digress for a moment; at the time, I had just started a process which ultimately saw an Irish Consul appointed in St Petersburg. This helped us greatly with visas and all sorts of other diplomatic communication and documentation. At the time, everything had to go through Moscow which was time consuming and difficult. To start the process of getting the Irish Government to appoint a Consul, we first needed the support of the Ambassador. To be fair, it was given freely, but the nominee for the position of Consul, who was our Russian Director General, wanted to create a good impression. In true Russian fashion, he booked the largest limousine he could find to drive the Ambassador around for the weekend.

The Ambassador, accompanied by his wife, duly arrived on a Saturday morning. We met them at the airport, whisked them through VIP handling and led them to their limousine. To say they were impressed with the limmo is an understatement. The Ambassador’s wife settled into the enormous car and announced to her husband: ‘Jesus Christ Almighty, there’s even a bar in this thing.’ Now, at the time, the Ambassador was new and none of us had made his acquaintance or that of his wife so we hadn’t known that both were, to put it mildly, ‘fond of a drink.’ The drive from the airport to the hotel was over an hour and by the time they arrived, it was very obvious that both had been imbibing from the free bar. We had billeted them at the Astoria, at that time the best hotel in St Petersburg. We got them checked in and the Ambassador promptly announced that he was going to bed for the afternoon. Judging by his appearance, he didn’t look fit for anything else. The function wasn’t scheduled until 8pm that evening so he had plenty of time to recover.

His wife however asked if she could go shopping. We readily agreed and put the limousine at her disposal for the afternoon, with instructions to the driver to bring her to some of the best shops. As far as I can recall, I went to watch a football game on TV. About two hours later, the limousine driver called me and said that the Ambassador’s wife was very distressed. He put her on the line and she told me she had been robbed in the market. The driver had earlier told me that she had had no interest in shops and just wanted to go to the street markets. She announced that she had no money as all of it, $800, had been stolen. She still had her credit cards but couldn’t use them at market stalls. I asked the driver to bring her back to the hotel where I’d meet them and hopefully try to replace her money.

In the meantime, I felt it would probably be appropriate to inform the Ambassador. His wife didn’t appear to have a mobile phone so wouldn’t have told him and I thought he might like to meet her when she returned to the hotel. I called the hotel and got through to his room. After several rings, a sleepy voice answered. I told him I was sorry to inform him that his wife had had her money stolen in the markets. His riposte was an annoyed, ‘and what the f*ck do you want me to do about it.’ He then hung up.

We did manage to replace the wife’s money and she returned to the market to finish her shopping, this time accompanied by the driver and two of us. The fact that she moved freely and chatted amiably with the stall holders and had no problem lingering until the market closed made us somewhat suspicious about the entire incident but so be it.

The Saturday evening function passed without incident and this was followed by a reception and a dinner which were both liberally lubricated with more alcohol. The Sunday was billed as a free day but the Ambassador wanted to see some of the city so we organized the limousine again. That evening, he hosted a reception in the Irish bar for our staff and anyone involved in organizing the function. At some point of the night, his wife ‘caught’ him smoking a cigarette; apparently he had told her he had quit. This led to a blazing public row where all sorts of insults and expletives were traded liberally. The upshot was that the wife walked out and insisted she was going back to Moscow on the midnight train. She ‘took’ the limousine and told the driver to bring her to the station. Two of us followed, with the Ambassador, in our own car. We managed, through local contacts, to reserve two first class tickets on the overnight train and by the time we reached the station, tempers had cooled somewhat. However, the row started up again when the Ambassador insisted that their train was leaving from platform 3 and his wife was positive that it was the train on platform 4. Eventually, he gave up and said, ‘sure fuck it, both trains are going to Moscow.’ He shook hands, thanked us for everything and took off after his wife. Very soon thereafter, he was moved from his position; possibly the shortest diplomatic appointment ever and I never saw him again.

The next incident involved the man who was without question, the best and most capable Ambassador I ever encountered. Again, names cannot be mentioned but people will know to whom I refer. This hilarious tale involves him but I must stress that it was not his fault and that his behaviour was impeccable and his judgment was sound at all times.

In 2004, the St Petersburg State University opened an Irish cultural centre. Incidentally it has been highly successful and continues to this day. Back then, the Irish Ambassador was naturally invited to conduct the official opening and as we were the most well-known Irish company in St Petersburg, we became involved in the organisation of the event, particularly the social side. The Ambassador did undertake one part of the organisation himself though. Through contacts with the cultural centre, a photographer was hired. This gentleman apparently had a brief to take the official photos of the opening and thereafter to take casual photos of all and sundry who attended.

All went very well and later that evening, the Ambassador hosted a reception in the Irish Bar. Everyone who was Irish, married to Irish, associated with Irish or just wannabe Irish was there. A free drinks reception sponsored by the Irish Government – what’s not to like? Now, our photographer friend was still there, happily taking photos of anyone who wanted to pose and the evening was going swingingly. At one stage, I noticed that one of the young Russian girls who had helped us organise the event was upset. I enquired as to what was wrong and she told me that her mobile phone had been stolen. She was particularly upset because it was the first one she had ever had. Someone suggested we call the number to see if it would ring. We did but there were so many people in the bar that it was impossible to hear anything; or so I thought.

Obviously, someone had better hearing than me because the next thing I remember was the joint owner of the bar, a large man called Sergey, beating the living daylights out of the photographer and all hell breaking loose. Several people rushed to try to restrain Sergey who kept shouting: ‘f*cking thief, how dare you steal in my bar?’ When things calmed down, a little, Sergey showed us the photographer’s bag. In addition to his equipment, it contained five mobile phones (including the young girl’s), a wallet and several other bits and pieces. Apparently our photographer was using his ability to move round taking shots of people to catch them off guard and pickpocket them. He was promptly locked in the back office with the threat to let Sergey loose on him again should he try to move. The police were called and he was arrested. Needless to say, it was embarrassing that it had been the Embassy who had hired him but who was to know. Interestingly, in the subsequent investigation, the police found that in almost all of the photographer’s previous engagements, people had been pickpocketed but no one had realised and put the two together. So he was either a pickpocket posing as a photographer or vice versa. In either case, all turned out well and we put an end to the man’s mini crime wave.

There were numerous other diplomatic events through the years, most uneventful. A few are worthy of recollection but they will have to wait for another day.