When you hire a morning suit for a wedding, you count on being photographed a few times on the day — for photos that will be quickly buried in wedding albums. But by now, half the country will probably have seen pictures of me as Liam Fox’s best man at his wedding, six years ago. Had I known, I’d perhaps have hired a suit that fitted a little better. But I’d never have imagined that I’d end up in a Force 12 political storm. When this all began, some three months ago, I opted to keep a low profile, thinking that any other course of action would only fan the media flames. Instead, my silence just encouraged ever more lurid and absurd accusations. I have never spoken publicly about this surreal experience, until now.
My story starts on an evening in Dubai six months ago when my then girlfriend and I ended up in an American steak house called Ruth’s Chris. Out of the many thousands of eateries in the city, we couldn’t have made a worse choice. Five minutes after we sat down, a British expat businessman named Harvey Boulter arrived on the table opposite us. I’d met him once before, but I had no intention of meeting him on this trip. However, out of politeness I said hello. The rest is history — and a history which I very much regret.
We stayed on after dinner as Boulter wanted to talk to me about Cellcrypt, his mobile phone encryption software technology. When we first met several months earlier, he’d discussed making it available to British troops in Afghanistan, free of charge, to enable them to make free ‘welfare’ calls home. A worthwhile idea, I thought, and one worth supporting. I mentioned to him that I was meeting my friend Liam Fox the next day — he asked if he could talk to Liam about Cellcrypt over a coffee.

Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in