The inevitable alliance between wealth and power demands a new code of conduct, writes Ross Lydall
So Peter Mandelson, at the time a mere European Commissioner, found out when he and his partner were billeted aboard the £80 million, 238-ft yacht in August.
It belongs to Oleg Deripaska, the richest man in Russia with an estimated fortune of £10
billion. By all accounts, it is more than a mere boat. It has cabins – or, more accurately, state rooms with en suite marble bathrooms – for 16 guests, an interior created by the leading superyacht designer Donald Starkey and a Cordon Bleu chef. There are 21 staff to cater for every guest's needs, whenever that need arises, wherever the yacht finds itself as it cruises the Mediterranean.
As we now know, the Queen K was the venue for two meetings between Tory shadow chancellor George Osborne, his Oxford University friend Nathaniel Rothschild and Mr Deripaska. The party met on several occasions, with Mr Mandelson joining them on shore at Mr Rothschild's villa and a local taverna.
The sparkling blue waters of the Mediterranean will today seem a million miles from the deep political hell in which Mr Osborne now finds himself. For out of this heady mix of foreign wealth and the British political upper class comes a good old-fashioned allegation of sleaze and questions about whether strict rules on UK party funding were at risk of being breached.
But for seasoned political observers, it is the latest tale of politicians landing themselves in hot water due to questionable extra-curricular activities. It also begs the question: why is it that those who seek to rule us find themselves so obsessed with the pursuit of money?
Angus MacNeil, the SNP MP who exposed the cash-for-honours scandal, said the strangest political allegiances were often formed behind the scenes at Westminster – regardless of the heated battles that were conducted in public.
He recalled an occasion when John Reid, the combative former Defence and Scotland Secretary, warmly embraced Norman Tebbit, the Tory scourge of the unions, at a magazine lunch. "My eyeballs almost popped out," he said.
Asked why politicians put themselves in potential danger by mixing with the rich and famous in ways that tend to arouse suspicion, Mr MacNeil told The Scotsman: "Who knows. Maybe there is a little bit of mutual seduction going on. Politicians and the monied think they can control the world and believe they can control people. People of that mind might be attracted to each other."
He added: "I think if you had some senior Tory and some senior Labour people and some bankers on the same yacht in the Mediterranean, the first thing they cast adrift is the truth."
Martin Bell, the former "sleazebuster" MP and BBC foreign correspondent who ousted Neil Hamilton from his Tatton constituency in 1997, said: "No senior politician, or politician of any kind, has any business whatsoever discussing donations, whether solicited or not, from somebody who is not allowed to give money to a political party because he is a foreign citizen.
"This seems to be to be an error. I find it extraordinary that George (Osborne] should do things like this."
But Lord Heseltine, the ex-Tory deputy Prime Minister, said there was no case to answer because Mr Osborne had done nothing wrong. "You cannot legislate for private conversations which never come to anything," he said. Describing the story as the "most extraordinary, bizarre diversion," he asked: "Have we all gone mad?"
The heart of the problem, according to Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg, is the need to reform the system of funding British political parties. It is a sentiment with which Mr MacNeil agrees.
Mr Clegg accused the Tories of holding out a "begging bowl" to the rich and famous of the world.
Mr Clegg said: "This was at almost exactly the same time that David Cameron, at the height of the Georgia crisis, was saying that rich Russians shouldn't be allowed to come into London and shop tax-free at Harvey Nichols or wherever. It is this feeling of double standards which I think is very uncomfortable. What I think is important is that all of us get together and clean up political funding and get big money out of politics altogether."
It seems a long time ago now, but Tony Blair came to power in 1997 pledging to be whiter than white.
His New Labour government had replaced the discredited regime of John Major, which had been brought low by personal and financial scandals that seemed to fall out of the cupboard with alarming regularity as soon as Mr Major pledged in 1993 to go "back to basics" in terms of family values. There was David Mellor and Antonia de Sancha and then the revelation a few years later, that Mr Major himself had been having an affair with Edwina Currie.
Four months before Mr Blair came to power, he was offered a £1 million donation to Labour from Formula 1 boss Bernie Ecclestone. Labour subsequently imposed a ban on tobacco advertising in sport, but exempted motor racing. When Mr Blair was found out, the party was forced to return the cheque, and the new Prime Minister famously protested on TV that he was a "pretty straight sort of guy".
In the end, Mr Blair's decade in Number 10 ended far sooner than he wanted, with the police knocking on the door asking awkward questions about the cash-for-honours affair. At the centre of this was another member of the super-rich elite, Lord Levy, Mr Blair's tennis partner and the ultimate schmoozer. He was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing, but was left under suspicion for months.
But why does the lure of high living or large donations prove irresistible to so many high-profile politicians? The truth is that those entranced by cash are far fewer than is generally imagined. There are 646 MPs at Westminster but, John Lewis list aside, the only one to have faced censure in recent times has been the Tory expenses fiddler, Derek Conway.
Many others experience, if not peer pressure, then peer envy. The Westminster political class is drawn from Oxbridge. Those who enter parliament will see their former college mates enter the City or take to the Bar, and take home far grander sums than ministerial salaries allow. Hence the desire to be seen in the right company.
Separate from this is the need to fund political parties. Sourcing donations is a dangerous game, as politicians from Mr Blair to Wendy Alexander, Labour's one-time leader in Holyrood, have found.
If it's time for a trip politicians always follow the moneyIT is not just George Osborne, the shadow chancellor, who has mingled with the rich and powerful on lavish holidays.
His boss, David Cameron, may have posed for photos on the beach in Cornwall this summer to show solidarity with credit crunch Britain.
But his main holiday was in Turkey, where he sailed on a £21,000-a-week five-star yacht. On this occasion, the wealthy individual involved was his mother-in-law, Lady Astor, who was celebrating her 60th birthday.
Tony Blair was famous for accepting the hospitality of the rich and famous.
He holidayed at the Barbados mansion of Sir Cliff Richard. And when he tired of that particular Summer Holiday, he flitted to the Florida home of Bee Gee Robin Gibb.
Mr Blair also partied with Silvio Berlusconi, the Italian prime minister, at his villa in Sardinia. He was even accused of using the Queen's Flight as his personal jet after flying to the Middle East for business – in between holidaying in Egypt and Jordan at the invitation of King Abdullah.
Foreign dignitaries are also not immune to being seduced by glamorous holiday destinations. Nicolas Sarkozy rented a house in New Hampshire that was coincidentally close to the Bush family's vacation spot.
This allowed a photo opportunity of the pair flipping burgers as the pair emphasised the new warm relations between the one-time enemies.
Barack Obama, the US presidential hopeful, also returned to his home this August for a holiday. Luckily for him, "home" is Hawaii.
As Russia's president, Vladimir Putin made a point of going to the Black Sea dacha, just like his predecessors in the communist era.
But there is no room for austerity for one British politician.
Earlier this year, Boris Johnson, the London Mayor, wrote : "I say stuff Skegness. I say bugger Bognor.
"I am going to take a holiday abroad, and in my view it would be absurd, hypocritical and frankly inhumane to do anything else."
