On this week’s Ambassadors we’ve got a royal visit. Prince Mark of Bath (Tom Hollander) may be a dickless piece of shit even Norman St John-Stevas couldn’t pick out of a lineup but with drilling licences for British oil companies at stake you have to roll out the big guns and even minor royalty is impressive artillery to the Tazbeks. He’s an entitled little shit of course, travel having narrowed his mind into a singularity of self-indulgence – booze, poontang and swanky hotel rooms his only concern. For Keith any trade deal is tricky with Tazbekistan being a network of kickbacks and backhanders Prohibition-era Chicago would balk at and since The Bribery Act he and his staff are obliged to report any suspect commissions or consultancy fees they hear about. “So let’s try not to hear too much” he tells them. Sound advice.
Prince Mark of Bath may be a dickless piece of shit even Norman St John-Stevas couldn’t pick out of a lineup but you have to roll out the big guns.
On a week like this the very last thing he needs is an escaped blind dissident throwing himself at the mercy of the British but that’s exactly what he gets. Amil Zarifi campaigns against child slave labour in the Tazbek cotton fields and, when forced to think on his feet, Neil gives him asylum at the embassy. Keith is not happy and the Tazbeks start sabre rattling like it’s the national sport. Who’d be an ambassador, eh?¹ ( ¹Everyone. It’s an incredibly privileged and obscenely well-paid job with perks so unexpected and fantastic they defy description).
Who’d be an ambassador, eh? ( Everyone. It’s an incredibly privileged and obscenely well-paid job with perks so unexpected and fantastic they defy description).
Keith makes the (lemon) difficult decision to hand Zarifi back to his certain death but the dissident wins at least one final convert to his cause, somehow getting through to the prince with his tales of child labour in the fields. There’s still the prince’s speech at the embassy in front of the president to get through though and Keith looks forward to that like Aerial Telly looks forward to a revival of GashMoremerde.
But in the event the prince delivers the Gettysburg Address of shameless pandering to his hosts, calling out the lefty critics of the commissions and consultancy fees, winning the heart and mind of the president like he was some sappy deb at her coming out ball. Thus are royals and tyrants once again united by the common language of deluded privilege. As the prince bonds with the president over Last of the Summer Wine he secures the drilling contracts and an end to child labour in the cotton fields. As for Zarifi it turns out the Tazbeks were looking for an excuse to get rid of the nausey cause célèbre Zarifi for a while so he gets a ticket to the UK and it’s turns out nicely for him.
Thus are royals and tyrants once again united by the common language of deluded privilege.
We’re not so sure if that’s true for Neil whose broad seems to know his Interior Ministry blackmailer. Ex-borefriend? I’m sure we’ll find out.
The verdict: My name is Prince and I am clunky.
Marks out of 10: 7.5