Gstaad
Some are whispering that it was the biggest haul since the Brink’s-Mat gold bullion robbery of 1983. Others say that compared with the Graff swag of last week, the Great Train Robbery was a mere bagatelle. Nobody knows nuthin, and while the fuzz are keeping schtum, the on dit is that it was the greatest robbery since the Louisiana Purchase, the trouble being that those who say such things think the Louisiana Purchase is a handbag sold by Dior.
One thing I love about the Swiss is the reluctance of the police to give out any information to nosy journalists, thus keeping their own embarrassment to a minimum and the criminals off balance. When I called the local fuzz and asked about the Graff robbery, the answer was predictable: ‘What robbery?’ I think I recognised the cop’s voice because he and I have a past. He once asked me if I knew what two minutes meant. (A grace period of two minutes is extended before a ticket is issued for illegal parking.) I told him that I could measure two minutes better than him because 120 seconds is a round in amateur boxing. I then shoved my face up to his ugly mug and was issued with a ticket for 100 Swiss francs for using the F-word in English. How was I supposed to know I was up against a polyglot? As a result, my love for the Swiss fuzz has slightly dimmed.
It gets worse. Back in 1971 Swiss men voted to give Swiss women the vote. The smallest canton in Switzerland, Appenzell Innerrhoden, held out on full voting rights for women until – horror of horrors – Bern intervened, imposing its will on the freedom-loving male citizens.
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