Karim, King of England

by Baz Wade

  “Mummy – are you and daddy my real mummy and daddy, or just pretending?”

  Mari and Tom had rehearsed many times how they would respond to this question and were thinking of broaching the subject without being asked, but Karim had beaten them to it. Maybe Safaa or Alina had said something. The important point was to be truthful.

  “Your daddy and I love you very much but we are not your real mummy and daddy. They died.”

  “So where are they now?”

  “They are both together in Paradise.”

  “Where is Paradise?”

  “It’s a wonderful place you go when you have died if you have been a good Muslim in the eyes of Allah. Some people call it Heaven or Xanadu. There are palm trees and white sand.”

  “Like where we live now?” said Karim.

  Mari laughed, “yes, a bit like where we live now, but everyone is happy all the time and never ill.”

  “My real mummy and daddy, were they nice?”

  “Your mummy was very beautiful and charming and your daddy very clever and kind – like you,” said Mari. “One day when you are older I will tell you all about them, but for now just be happy that everyone in this family loves you very much.”

  At that moment Tom came into the living room from his study and Mari said, “Karim wants to know about his real parents, so I’ve told him one day when he’s older I’ll tell him all about them.”

  “Okay Karim, how about some more football? Come on let’s go,” said Tom, ruffling Karim’s hair.

  Karim, who had been pensive, sprung to life at the mention of football and for the time being his chat with Mari was put to one side.

  Apart from the question mark in his own mind about his real parents, Karim’s childhood was as normal as many of the other kids in Dubai. He went to the English speaking School in Jumeirah district until he was eleven.

  He enjoyed being taken sailing by Tom and driving and racing 4 x 4s across dune and desert, known as Wadi bashing.

  Mari brought him up as a Muslim, teaching him the essentials of that religion as her parents had taught her. A useful side effect of this process was that Karim acquired the ability to read and speak enough Arabic to be able to read the Koran in the original and make himself understood in that language.

  Tom always spoke to him only in English, so Karim became genuinely bi-lingual.

  At age eleven, Karim started at Dubai College, the leading secondary school in the area, and cultivated his interest in sport, in particular football, and also music, which Tom had encouraged. Karim had started on the recorder, then graduated to guitar and trumpet, much to Tom’s satisfaction.

  Shortly after his thirteenth birthday, Tom and Mari raised the subject of his parents’ ID with Karim when Safaa and Alina were away.

  “We just want a quick word, darling, about your real mum and dad,” said Mari.

  “Fine, who were they?”

  “Your dad was my brother, Ali, so I am your aunt officially. So Grandad Hassan is your real Grandad, not pretend.”

  “That makes sense, the girls keep saying I look like you – I thought they were just being annoying! That’s great news about Grandad as well.”

  “Your mum was English – she was Caroline, formerly married to James, Prince of Wales.”

  “You’re kidding!” said Karim. “Why the secrecy?” he continued.

  “For the time being we think it should remain secret as we don’t want to attract the world’s media to this neck of the woods, potentially being a nuisance,” said Tom.

  “Would they regard me as important?”

  Tom replied “Probably yes – mainly because of who you’re related to – Prince Richard in England is your half-brother.”

  “So how and why did they die?”

  “Your mum was in Morocco when she gave birth to you – there were complications and she died, sadly, shortly after giving birth to you.”

  “And my dad?”

  Tom continued. “This is the problem, it’s all a bit of a mystery – we think he may have been killed possibly by the Mafia, but it was made to look like an accident.”

  “Why would someone want to kill him?”

  “This is a difficult question – possibly someone who didn’t want Richard to have a Muslim half-brother or sister. Please keep the content of this chat secret for the time being, darling, it’s simpler that way,” said Mari. “When you are a bit older we’ll talk some more, okay?”

  “Will I ever get to meet Prince Richard?”

  “Hopefully yes, but not until you have passed all your exams with A grades, preferably,” joked Tom.

  “Come on, let’s have a jam session while your mum puts the supper on – okay?”

  “Yeah okay – whatever.”

  Over the next few weeks and months, Karim’s curiosity got the better of him and using the internet, he researched Princess Caroline, Prince James and their son, Prince Richard. He found Press reports on the romance between his father and mother. He then widened the scope of his research to take in some historical background, including scandals and rumours involving the Royal Family and British politicians. What troubled him more than anything was the apparent hostility to Islam and what seemed to him the aggression of the West in general, and England in particular, against the Islamic world, starting with the Crusades.

  At one point he brought up the subject over supper with Mari and Tom, when the girls were out.

  “Don’t you think it’s racist the way the West has attacked the Islamic world over the centuries?”

  “Up to a point, yes,” said Tom, “but they all thought God was on their side – it’s like the Dylan song we used to sing in the Sixties.”

  “But there was so much violence.”

  “Most religions are violent from time to time – Islam is no exception, look at the Jihadis.”

  “Yes, I suppose so, but to me it looks like the West started it—”

  “I think you’ll find it’s not as simple as that,” said Tom.

  “I like History – I reckon I’ll do it for A Level, so I can find out about these things,” said Karim.

  “Just one word of advice,” said Tom. “Be careful about using the word racist when you talk about religion, they aren’t the same thing. There are Arab Christians in Egypt, for example.”

  “Okay,” said Karim, “so where are there European Muslims?”

  “Well there’s plenty in Bosnia” said Tom. “The West defended them up to a point against the Serbs.”

  “I don’t think I even know where Bosnia is,” said Karim.

  “Well you better do Geography as well as History hadn’t you – it’s unwise to get strident about these things until you know the facts.”

  “I don’t like these arguments,” said Mari, “it feels like my family’s tearing itself apart.”

  “Darling – we are debating rather than arguing,” said Tom, “it’s part of Karim’s education – it’s good he’s interested.”

  After passing most of his GCSEs with flying colours, Karim started in the sixth Form and chose History, Politics and Arabic as his A Level subjects.

  He was clever academically but also prepared to get stuck in to some serious socialising – he was quite happy doing what his pals did most of the time: things like getting false ID to go clubbing in Trilogy and go to listen to live music at Jambase – what didn’t suit him, however, was alcohol, much to Tom’s amusement.

  After two bingeing sessions following which he’d been violently sick on both occasions, he became teetotal. Mari was over the moon about this – “It’s all that alcohol aversion therapy you keep throwing at him,” joked Tom.

  “He’s following the example of his ancestors who were all good Muslims,” suggested Mari.

  “Tell you what, Karim, you can get dressed up in Dish Dash when you go out an
d you won’t be allowed in the bars,” Tom helpfully suggested. “Just don’t get stuck into weed or pills instead.”

  “Okay dad, don’t rub it in – my mates are already taking the mickey big time,” said Karim.

  “Cheer up – it’s not the end of the world, there’s still women and song to think about, just no wine.”

  During his first year in the sixth Form, Tom arranged for Karim to have a week’s work experience at his law firm on the fifth floor of the Al Fahidi Tower in downtown Dubai.

  Tom promised Karim he would get a taste of what it’s really like to work in a law firm, ie that only a tiny percentage is spent in courtroom dramas, contrary to what many US and UK media people would have you believe. The result was that Karim spent day one photocopying and day two learning about the post room and accounts departments.

  It wasn’t until day three he was permitted to look at some real law and that was a small research project on the gripping topic of the law relating to oil rigs and pipelines. Karim still managed to show up on day four and his reward was to spend the day in the civil courts with one of the firm’s litigation Partners, followed on the morning of day five by a session in the criminal courts. There then followed a slap-up lunch at a fancy restaurant courtesy of Tom.

  “Well, have you learnt anything?” asked Tom during the lunch.

  “I suppose the main thing I’ve learnt is I don’t reckon I want to be a lawyer.”

  “Probably wise, though I reckon a lot of it’s an acquired taste – and the money can be good if you stick at it.”

  “Maybe, but loads of it is so boring.”

  “Yes, at the start 80% is boring, 20% interesting if you’re lucky. If you continue to be lucky, you should find the work gets a tad more interesting as you progress. Also the more senior you are, the more able you are to farm out the chores to more junior people. The downside to being senior is that you have to carry the can if and when things go wrong. Even though we’re insured, we still have to pay the excess, and that can be a four or five figure sum.”

  “Seems like it’s all about money and none of it’s about justice,” said Karim.

  “Well, some large firms sponsor and help in law centres and clinics and they wouldn’t be able to afford to do that if they didn’t make profits in other areas.”

  “I reckon I’m more interested in politics than law – you can make more of a difference in politics.”

  “Fine – personally I think the best politicians are or have been lawyers – Lincoln, Lloyd George, Lenin! The list is endless – why don’t you do Law and Politics at Uni?”

  “I think law may be very hard work – I’m thinking of doing a Politics and Arabic degree – I’m already doing A Levels in those subjects – mum’s taught me Arabic so I’m halfway there already.”

  “Okay which Uni?”

  “How about London? You are always saying it’s a great city.”

  “Okay, why don’t you try for SOAS? That’s the School of Oriental and African Studies – I’ve heard it’s very cosmopolitan and it’s quite small, so everyone knows everyone else, which makes it seem friendlier than these massive Uni’s like Manchester or Leeds.”

  After toying with the idea of trying for Oxford, Karim eventually took Tom’s advice and applied to SOAS as his first choice. He had received good reports from his teachers, who had predicted he would get at least three Bs at A Level. SOAS offered him a place conditional on achieving three Bs to read Arabic and Politics. He achieved two As and a B, the latter in History. He did not mind dropping a grade in that subject, he had concentrated more on the other two.

  After a summer spent sailing and absorbing some more work experience in Tom’s office, Karim arrived in London in October 2012 for his first year at SOAS.

  Tom had kindly offered to help Karim settle in to his Hall of Residence and showed Karim around some of the sights, the highlight of which was a trip to Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in Soho.

  Karim quickly decided that London had much to offer and he was going to enjoy his three years in town as a student – he had been told about the ‘secret Trust Fund’ created for him by his grandfather, Hassan, so money wasn’t going to be a problem, so long as he didn’t overdo it.

  At the Freshers week, held in the University of London Union jointly with King’s College, Karim mingled and was pleased to join the Jazz Society, the Islamic Society and the Rock Music Society – the latter contained several embryonic bands who were looking for kindred spirits to join them, so Karim agreed to turn up to a couple of jamming sessions to see if he was keen enough and if they wanted him as a band member.

  The first session did not go well – at least one of the group was on a major ego trip and the band did not seem to be going anywhere collectively.

  The second session with a band called Rainbow Warrior went extremely well. The band was mainly green politically, but musically they were quite sophisticated and eclectic.

  Karim liked them and liked their style. He particularly liked their lead singer, Kirsty, who was Scottish with big red hair, and a strong personality to match.

  Early on they got chatting and it turned out that Kirsty was doing Music at King’s College.

  “What was the attraction of London – why didn’t you go to Uni in Scotland?” Karim asked her.

  “Oh I’ve got contacts here and although there’s drawbacks to London, it’s still the centre of the universe musically,” she replied. “So what brought you here from Dubai?”

  “My dad was always on about how great London is so I thought I’d see for myself,” said Karim.

  “How did your dad know London, is he British?”

  “Yes he’s British and did most of his legal training in London. My mum is Moroccan so I’m a mixture – how about you?”

  “Oh my dad’s an SNP Councillor and businessman and my mum’s a music teacher – both Scots through and through.”

  “Does that make them both anti-English?”

  “I suppose so – up to a point – they both voted for independence in the referendum and so did I.”

  “I think I’m anti-English,” volunteered Karim.

  “I reckon the English establishment has shafted Muslims and Arabs for centuries and the West is now paying the price.”

  “Isn’t that disloyal to your dad?”

  “No, because he’s not establishment, he’s cool, he likes jazz – anyway I think he’s at least half Scots!”

  Karim didn’t just play hard, he worked hard as well – he was ambitious and driven. He was especially interested in the lectures and tutorials on Middle Eastern politics and rapidly reached the conclusion that the Palestinians had been unjustly treated, mainly at the hands of western-backed Zionists. He was not a fundamentalist by conviction or temperament, so he did not turn into a Jihadi, though he understood the sense of grievance that such had in relation to the West.

  Neither was he a Holocaust denier, though it seemed Europe had shifted the burden of compensating wronged Jews onto Arabs and Palestine, who were innocent of the crimes perpetrated against Jews in concentration camps.

  Interestingly, David Rosenthal, one of his Jewish classmates, agreed with him and mentioned the name of a well-known Jewish Labour politician who regularly criticised Israeli government policy towards Palestinians in the House of Commons.

  Karim was pleased to discover that Kirsty was happy to discuss politics as well as music. Her agenda was markedly different to his, but they were both indignant about what they regarded as injustices.

  In Kirsty’s case, her emphasis was on Scottish Nationalism and green issues – with a mainly socialistic slant on most matters.

  Karim decided that he needed to ask her out.

  After breaking the ice on two dates, the couple wound up at Kirsty’s flat in Kilburn. One thing led to another and they found themselves in bed together. Despite their rela
tive inexperience, they made it happen – sap rose – the swelling wave broke at the right moment – the earth moved – momentarily, in Karim’s eyes, Kirsty became an additional super-hot star in the firmament. Post coitus tristis did not set in, so Karim found himself in love.

  He went to sleep and woke up a happy man.

  5

  Sheikh’s Media Empire and the

  Scoop of the Century: 1995 – 2014

  In the years following his acquiring a controlling interest in the Sun and doing a deal with Hassan on the scoop of the century, Sheikh built up his media empire to include several TV channels and magazine titles.

  At an editorial and management conference in early 2002, the subject of 9/11 arose.

  “One of the problems is that the West doesn’t understand Islam,” ventured Sheikh, “I’d like to promote some aspects of Islam that people in the West can tolerate and even find attractive.”

  “Such as?” asked Nick, one of his sub-editors.

  “There’s some elements of Sharia law in relation to family and criminal matters that could acquire support in the West – I’ll give you a couple of examples – take paedophiles – they could be chemically castrated with repeat offenders being physically castrated.”

  “Are you serious?” said Gibbs, the lawyer. “What about their human rights?”

  “The average Sun reader doesn’t reckon paedophiles have any human rights. This doesn’t have to be a campaign to change the law, just a softening up process whereby people’s mindsets are gradually changed.”

  “I see, what other campaigns do you have in mind?” asked Gibbs.

  “Right – look at the state of divorce in Britain and the numbers of children left fatherless. The Islamic world has for centuries permitted polygamy, and as a result, in my view, there is nothing like such a widespread crisis in the family.”

  “I’m not convinced it’s cause and effect,” said Gibbs. “Part of the deal is the oppression and subjugation of women that most people in the West won’t buy into.”

  “I’m not advocating the oppression of women.” Sheikh wasn’t going to be put off that easily. “If you know anything about polygamy, you can see that the wives in many ways have a better deal than their monogamous sisters.”