Having a bit of a beef

"He said also to the one who had invited him, 'When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you . . .'"
Luke 14: 12-14 (morning office, Last Sunday after Trinity) * Banquet at Guildhall in honour of State visit of the King of Saudi Arabia (31 Oct)


I was a little concerned that the banquet in honour of King Abdullah Bin Abdul Aziz Al Saud was going to be a dry affair. What's a banquet without booze? I needn’t have worried. It was just that there weren't going to be any toasts. We were not going to be invited to raise our glasses of Château Langoa Barton (1997) to King Abdullah, the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques. I guess I can see why that may have been a bit tricky.

At Guildhall, it is the Remembrancer of City of London who looks after these ceremonial details. In consultation with the Foreign Office and the Department for Business Enterprise and Regulatory Reform, the Remembrancer arranges the guest list and the seating plan; he convenes the Reception Committee; he sends out briefing notes to the entire Court of Common Council (all of whom, through being elected members of the City of London Corporation, attend these state banquets); he monitors the diplomatic and business success of the evening.

The menu itself has to be co-ordinated with Buckingham Palace, where the visiting head of state will have dined on the previous evening. It is considered, for example, unacceptable to repeat dishes. On this occasion, Her Majesty was proffering ‘Noisettes of Venison’ with a ‘Panache of Root Vegetables’ for King Abdullah’s eating pleasure. And so, at Guildhall, we had gone for British beef and roast potatoes.

The Saudi Embassy was not as efficient as the Office of the Remembrancer. They had failed to supply a comprehensive guest list until the very last minute. Consequently there were gaps in the seating plan. I had no idea, for example, who was to be sitting on my left, other than this person was to be a ‘guest of the Saudi Embassy’. I usually like to google my dinner companions in advance in order to marshall some preparatory small talk.

The Saudi guest turned out to be a man from the Embassy itself, now retired. Over the Smoked Garlic Tobouleh, I asked him about his family. He told me that he had settled in Salisbury with his English wife, sending his children to Marlborough College. “Is there an imam at Marlborough?” I asked. “My boys are not that interested in Islam. You have to let them make their own mind up,” he said. It is true he didn’t touch the Château Barton, but he didn’t seem too hard line to me.

It was all going OK, though I have to say we were both finding the beef a bit tough. He was looking at his ‘Tournedos’ quizzically. Maybe he was wondering whether the meat was ‘halal’. We continued with our small talk: “I wonder, do you live anywhere near Bemerton, just outside Salisbury, where George Herbert was the priest?” I asked. “We don’t live very near Bemerton, but I think we may know the Herberts,” he said.

There were maybe a few misunderstandings, but we seemed to be getting on fine, so I ventured from small to slightly larger talk: “King Abdullah’s visit has not been uncontroversial,” I said, not uncontroversially, “There has been quite a lot in the papers about the Saudi human rights record. Have you noticed?” - “I have noticed,” he said tersely, “And I am appalled at your country’s level of ignorance and rudeness.”

Should I swallow and just move on? I decided, instead, to keep chewing: “I think it is just that we find things like public beheadings difficult to accept.” - “Well, we find homosexuals marrying in Westminster Parliament difficult to accept. It is completely disgusting. It’s like a death to us.”

I wouldn’t say it was exactly a diplomatic incident, but it did feel as though an unwanted guest had just appeared at the banquet. The exchange sat in my stomach like an undigested piece of steak. Our conversation shrunk to pleasant reciprocities.

The speeches offered an opportunity to relax as White Chocolate Panacotta and a luscious Rutherglen Muscat, tasting of toffee, relieved our palates. King Abdullah invited the assembled company to take advantage of the Saudi market for commercial investment and joint venture possibilities. London, he said, was a natural partner. The Lord Mayor responded by reminding us all that the Saudi economy was the largest in the Middle East, that it had sound monetary policies and a stable regulatory infrastructure. He then welcomed the Saudi delegation to the throbbing heart of the British economy and reminded them that London was a leader in Sharia compliant financial products. Islam, he added, was a religion of peace. There was purring all round.

In the end, however, I was not the only one with indigestion. A few days later Members of the Court of Common Council were circulated a note about the Banquet: “The Remembrancer would like to confirm that the beef was wholly unacceptable and the caterers would not be paid for it.”