New York
I remember well a conversation I had with Gianni Agnelli in the winter of 1963 about John Profumo and lying: ‘Poor man,’ said the charismatic Fiat chairman- to-be, ‘such disgrace for so ugly a tart.’ Both of us at the time took it for granted that British politicians did not lie, something unheard of in our respective countries, which made Profumo’s falling on his sword only natural.
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