Imran Khan on Naomi Campbell, Charles Taylor and the “blood diamonds”

Here’s a sneak preview of my interview with the ex-Pakistan cricket captain.

I've done an interview with the former Pakistani-cricketer-turned-politician Imran Khan which you'll be able to read in a forthcoming issue of the New Statesman.

However, I thought I'd share an excerpt from it (below). I asked Khan about the night he and his then wife, Jemima, shared a dinner in South Africa hosted by Nelson Mandela. The other high-profile guests included Naomi Campbell, Mia Farrow and the new president of Liberia, Charles Taylor -- who is now standing trial for war crimes. (You can see the much-discussed photograph of that dinner and its gaggle of celebrity guests, including Imran and Jemima, here.)

Farrow's claim that Taylor, after being struck by Campbell's beauty on that September night in 1997, arranged for the supermodel to be given a so-called blood diamond, led to Campbell and Farrow having to testify at Taylor's trial in The Hague in recent days. In fact, the story has dominated news bulletins across the world despite the horrific floods in Pakistan.

What was Khan's memory of that now-notorious night? Did he see or hear about any diamonds? Khan told me:

I remember Naomi, of course. I remember Mia Farrow, Quincy Jones and I remember Nelson Mandela who invited us. But to be honest, I have no recollection of Charles Taylor or these diamonds that everyone is now talking about.

He added:

If there were any diamonds, I'd have been the last person to notice. I'm not really into jewels. But I didn't receive any diamonds and nor did my ex-wife.

(On her Twitter feed Jemima has confirmed Imran's account: "No Charles Taylor didn't give me any dirty looking pebbles -- unsurprising given the pile of dirty laundry I'm wearing in that postnatal pic.")

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.