Giuseppe Orsi arrest highlights Italian politics' odd relationship with business

Finmeccanica chief arrested.

Giuseppe Orsi, the chairman of Italian giant defence and aerospace group Finmeccanica, was arrested on Tuesday on suspicion of corruption.

The investigation relates to the sale of 12 helicopters to the Indian government by AgustaWestland, the high tech helicopter unit of Finmeccanica back in 2010, at which time Orsi was at the division’s helm.

He now stands accused of bribing the Indian government to secure the sale. And he is not alone: the current managing director of AgustaWestland is under house arrest, an option not considered for Orsi, who judges said could potentially pervert the course of justice.

Unsurprisingly, Finmeccanica shares have tanked after initially being suspended, falling by more than 9 per cent to €4.236.

And this is merely the first layer of a complex story. According to the judge, bribery was “part of the firm’s philosophy” – hardly a compliment, but definitely less flattering considering the fact that the State is a 30 per cent shareholder in the business.

Finmeccanica has expressed solidarity with Mr Orsi, but Prime Minister Mario Monti declared, in his understated manner, that “there is a problem with respect to Finmeccanica governance that we will have to tackle”.

That’s certainly a good idea. But it is worth considering that it was Monti himself that appointed Mr Orsi as chairman at the end of 2011, following investigations into the practices of previous chairman Pier Francesco Guarguaglini and his wife, then head of another Finmeccanica subsidiary.

Orsi’s arrest comes just one day after the resignation of the Pope and it is possibly one of the few stories capable of pushing that news down to second place on Italian newspapers… Primarily because there is an election around the corner, and the German-born Vatican resident tends not to be active in local politics.

It’s election time, which has proven to be during the years intense and tiring time for the judiciary.

Investigations are still ongoing on Monte dei Paschi di Siena, the oldest bank in the world and the third largest in Italy by assets.

Not to be outdone, the head of State-owned energy company Eni Paolo Scaroni has received notice that he is under investigation for bribery.

And let’s not forget, that Italy’s technocrat saviour, and whose appointee is under arrest - Mario Monti - is running for office, as is the man most synonymous with Italian political intrigue - Silvio Berlusconi.

So, are we likely to see major changes and a clean up as a result of these elections? God knows! Or does he… It’s hard to tell now his spokesperson has thrown in the towel.

Giuseppe Orsi. Photograph: Getty Images

Sara Perria is the Assistant Editor for Banking and Payments, VRL Financial News

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Brexit confusion is scuppering my show – what next?

My week, from spinning records with Baconface, Brexit block and visiting comedy graves.

I am a stand-up comedian, and I am in the process of previewing a new live show, which I hope to tour until early 2018. It was supposed to be about how the digital, free-market society is reshaping the idea of the individual, but we are in the pre-Brexit events whirlpool, and there has never been a worse time to try to assemble a show that will still mean anything in 18 months’ time.



A joke written six weeks ago about dep­orting eastern Europeans, intended to be an exaggeration for comic effect, suddenly just reads like an Amber Rudd speech – or, as James O’Brien pointed out on LBC, an extract from Mein Kampf.

A rude riff on Sarah Vine and 2 Girls 1 Cup runs aground because there are fewer people now who remember Vine than recall the briefly notorious Brazilian video clip. I realise that something that gets a cheer on a Tuesday in Harrogate, or Glasgow, or Oxford, could get me lynched the next night in Lincoln. Perhaps I’ll go into the fruit-picking business. I hear there’s about to be some vacancies.



I sit and stare at blocks of text, wondering how to knit them into a homogeneous whole. But it’s Sunday afternoon, a time for supervising homework and finding sports kit. My 11-year-old daughter has a school project on the Victorians and she has decided to do it on dead 19th-century comedians, as we had recently been on a Music Hall Guild tour of their graves at the local cemetery. I wonder if, secretly, she wished I would join them.

I have found living with the background noise of this project depressing. The headstones that she photographed show that most of the performers – even the well-known Champagne Charlie – barely made it past 40, while the owners of the halls outlived them. Herbert Campbell’s obelisk is vast and has the word “comedian” written on it in gold leaf, but it’s in the bushes and he is no longer remembered. Neither are many of the acts I loved in the 1980s – Johnny Immaterial, Paul Ramone, the Iceman.



I would have liked to do some more work on the live show but, one Monday a month, I go to the studios of the largely volunteer-run arts radio station Resonance FM in Borough, south London. Each Wednesday night at 11pm, the masked Canadian stand-up comedian Baconface presents selections from his late brother’s collection of 1950s, 1960s and 1970s jazz, psychedelia, folk, blues and experimental music. I go in to help him pre-record the programmes.

Baconface is a fascinating character, whom I first met at the Cantaloupes Comedy Club in Kamloops in British Columbia in 1994. He sees the radio show as an attempt to atone for his part in his brother’s death, which was the result of a prank gone wrong involving nudity and bacon, though he is often unable to conceal his contempt for the music that he is compelled to play.

The show is recorded in a small, hot room and Baconface doesn’t change the bacon that his mask is made of very often, so the experience can be quite claustrophobic. Whenever we lose tapes or the old vinyl is too warped to play, he just sits back and utters his resigned, philosophical catchphrase, “It’s all bacon!” – which I now find myself using, as I watch the news, with ­depressing regularity.



After the kids go to sleep, I sit up alone and finally watch The Lady in the Van. Last year, I walked along the street in Camden where it was being filmed, and Alan Bennett talked to me, which was amazing.

About a month later, on the same street, we saw Jonathan Miller skirting some dog’s mess and he told me and the kids how annoyed it made him. I tried to explain to them afterwards who Jonathan Miller was, but to the five-year-old the satire pioneer will always be the Shouting Dog’s Mess Man.



I have the second of the final three preview shows at the intimate Leicester Square Theatre in London before the new show, Content Provider, does a week in big rooms around the country. Today, I was supposed to do a BBC Radio 3 show about improvised music but both of the kids were off school with a bug and I had to stay home mopping up. In between the vomiting, in the psychic shadow of the improvisers, I had something of a breakthrough. The guitarist Derek Bailey, for example, would embrace his problems and make them part of the performance.



I drank half a bottle of wine before going on stage, to give me the guts to take some risks. It’s not a long-term strategy for creative problem-solving, and that way lies wandering around Southend with a pet chicken. But by binning the words that I’d written and trying to repoint them, in the moment, to be about how the Brexit confusion is blocking my route to the show I wanted to write, I can suddenly see a way forward. The designer is in, with samples of a nice coat that she is making for me, intended to replicate the clothing of the central figure in Caspar David Friedrich’s 1818 German masterpiece Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog.



Richard Branson is on the internet and, just as I’d problem-solved my way around writing about it, he’s suggesting that Brexit might not happen. I drop the kids off and sit in a café reading Alan Moore’s new novel, Jerusalem. I am interviewing him about it for the Guardian in two weeks’ time. It’s 1,174 pages long, but what with the show falling apart I have read only 293 pages. Next week is half-term. I’ll nail it. It’s great, by the way, and seems to be about the small lives of undocumented individuals, buffeted by the random events of their times.

Stewart Lee’s show “Content Provider” will be on in London from 8 November. For more details, visit:

This article first appeared in the 27 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, American Rage